The Declaration
by GreenEyes555
Summary: Bella has lived her whole life in Grange Hall,being told that she is useless and shouldn't exist. When new boy Edward arrives and rebels against the rules, he teaches Bella that the rules and everything she knows is wrong. Will she believe him and escape?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the book; The Declaration and I don't own Twilight, they both belong to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer**.

**Hiya Guys, I know what you're thinking **_**why is she starting another story?**_** But I just read this book recently called The Declaration and it was amazing!**

**So I thought I should write a story on it, this story is basically The Declaration but I have switched the character names for twilight ones and I have added my own parts here and there throughout the story…**

**So enjoy and let me know what you think XD**

Here's the full summary:

My name is Bella and I shouldn't be here.

I shouldn't exist.

But I do.

Bella hides her secret diary away each night because she doesn't want to get into trouble for breaking the rules. Life in Grange Hall is governed by rules, rules that have to be obeyed in order to make up for breaking the biggest rule of all…being born.

But when Edward arrives and starts to tell Bella shocking things about the outside world, she learns to question the rules, and with Edward, they struggle to escape the past and find a better future.

**So…hopefully that has all you guys questioning what's going to happen :P**

**Let me Know what you think, review please**

**Xoxo**

**-GreenEyes555**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the book; The Declaration and I don't own Twilight, they both belong to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer**.

The declaration

_11 January, 2140_

_My name is Bella._

_My name is Bella and I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't exist._

_But I do._

_It's not my fault I'm here. I didn't ask to be born. But that doesn't make it any better that I was. They caught me early though, which bodes well. That's what Mrs. Denali says. She's that lady that runs Grange Hall. _

_We call her House Matron. Grange Hall is where I live._

_Where people like me are brought up to be Useful- the 'best of a bad situation' Mrs. Denali says._

_I don't have another name. Not like Mrs. Denali. Mrs. Denali's name is Carmen Denali. Some people call her Carmen, most people call her Mrs. Denali and we call her House Matron. Lately I've started to call her Mrs. Denali too, although not to her face -I'm not stupid and I don't have a death wish._

_Legal people generally have two names, sometimes more._

_Not me though. I'm just Bella. People like me don't need more than one name, Mrs. Denali says. One is quite enough, otherwise it is a waste._

_Actually, she doesn't even like the name Bella - she told me she tried to change it when I first came here. But I was an obstinate child, she says, and I wouldn't answer to anything else so in the end she gave up. _

_I'm pleased – I like the name Bella, even though my parents gave me that name. _

_I hate my parents. They broke the Declaration and didn't care about anyone else but themselves. They're in prison now. I don't know where, none of us know anything about our parents anymore. Which is fine by me –I'd have nothing to say to them anyway._

_None of the girls or boys here has more than one name. That's one of the things that makes us different Mrs. Denali says. _

_Not the most important thing, of course –having one name is really just a detail. But sometimes it doesn't feel like a detail, sometimes I long for a second name…even a horrible one; I wouldn't care what it was._

_One time I even asked Mrs. Denali if I could be Bella Denali, to have her name after mine. But that made her really angry and she hit me hard across the head and took me off hot meals for a week._

_Mrs. Cope, our sewing instructor, explained later that it had been an insult to suggest that someone like me could have Mrs. Denali's name._

_As if she could be related to me._

_Actually I do sort of have another name, but it's a pre-name, not an after-name. And everyone here has got the same one, so it doesn't really feel like a name. On the list that Mrs. Denali carries round with her, I'm down as;_

_Surplus Bella._

_But really, it's more of a description than a name. We're all Surpluses at Grange Hall. _

_Surplus to requirements._

_Surplus to capacity._

_I'm very lucky to be here actually. I've got a chance to redeem my parent's sins, if I work hard enough and become employable._

_Not everyone gets that kind of chance, Mrs. Denali says. In some countries surpluses are killed, put down like animals._

_They'd never do that here, of course._

_In England they have surpluses be useful to other people, so it isn't quite so bad we were born. Here they set up Grange Hall because of the staffing requirements of legal people, and that's why we have to work so hard –to show our gratitude._

_But you can't have surplus halls all over the world for every surplus that's born. It's like straws on a camel's back, Mrs. Denali says._

_Each and every surplus could be the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Probably being put down is the best thing for everyone –who would want to be the straw that broke the back of Mother Nature?_

_That's why I hate my parents. It's their fault I'm here. They didn't think about anyone except themselves._

_I sometimes wonder about the children who are put down. I wonder how the authorities do it and whether it hurts. And I wonder what they do for maids and housekeepers in those countries. Or handymen._

_My friend Jessica says that they do sometimes put children down here too. But I don't believe her. Mrs. Denali says that Jessica's imagination is far too active and that is going to be her downfall._

_I don't know if her imagination is too active, but I do think she makes things up, like when she arrived and she swore to me that her parents hadn't signed the Declaration, that it was all a big mistake because her parents had Opted out Of Longevity. She insisted over and over again that they'd be coming to collect her once they'd sorted it all out._

_They never did, of course._

_There're five hundred of us at Grange Hall. I'm one of the eldest and I've been here the longest too._

_I've lived here since I was two and a half – that's how old I was when they found me. I was being kept in an attic –can you believe that?_

_The neighbors heard me crying, apparently. They knew there weren't meant to be any children in the house and called the authorities. I owe those neighbors a great deal, Mrs. Denali says. Children have a way of knowing the truth, she says, and I was probably crying because I wanted to be found._

_What else was I going to do –spend my life in an attic?_

_I can't remember anything about the attic or my parents. I used to, I think –but I'm not really sure. It could have been dreams I was remembering. Why would anyone break the Declaration and have a baby just to keep it in the attic? It's just plain stupid._

_I can't remember much about arriving at Grange Hall either, but that's hardly surprising –I mean who remembers being two and a half? I remember feeling cold, remember screaming out for my parents until my throat was sore because back then I didn't realize how selfish and stupid they were. I also remember getting into trouble no matter what they did. _

_But that's all really._

_I don't get into trouble anymore. I've learnt about responsibility, Mrs. Denali says, and I am set to be a valuable asset._

_Valuable asset Bella. I like that more than surplus._

_The reason I'm set to be a valuable asset is that I'm a fast learner. I can cook fifty dishes to top standard, and another forty to satisfactory. I'm not as good with fish as I am with meat._

_But I'm a good seamstress and I'm going to make someone a very solid housekeeper according to my last appraisal. If my attention to detail improves, I'll get an even better report next time._

_Which means in six months when I get to leave Grange Hall, I might go to one of the better houses. In six months it's my seventeenth birthday._

_It'll be time to fend for myself then, Mrs. Denali says. _

_I'm lucky to have had such good training because 'I know my place', and people in the nicest houses like that._

_I don't know how I feel about leaving Grange Hall. Excited, I think, but scared too. The furthest I've ever been is to a house in the village, where I did an internship for three weeks when the owner's housekeeper was ill._

_Mrs. Tanner the cooking instructor walked me down there one Friday night and brought me back when it was over. Both times it was dark so I didn't see much of the village at all._

_The house that I was working in was beautiful though. It was nothing like Grange Hall –the rooms were painted in bright warm colors, with thick carpet on the floor that you could kneel on without it killing your knees. It also had huge, big sofas that made you want to curl up on them and sleep forever._

_It had a big garden that you could see out of all the windows, and it was filled with beautiful flowers. At the back of the garden was something called an allotment where Mrs. Weber grew vegetables sometimes, although they weren't growing when I worked there. _

_She said that flowers were an indulgence and frowned upon by the authorities. Now that food couldn't be flown around the world, everyone had to grow their own. She said that she thought that flowers were important too, but that the authorities didn't agree._

_I think she's right –I think that flowers can be just as important as food, sometimes. I think it depends on what you're hungry for._

_In the house, Mrs. Weber had her radiators on sometimes, so it was never cold. And she was the nicest, kindest woman –once when I was cleaning her bedroom she offered to let me try on some lipstick. I said no, because I thought she might tell Mrs. Denali, but I regretted it later. Mrs. Weber talked to me like I wasn't a surplus. She said it was nice to have a young face around the place again._

_I loved working there –mainly because of Mrs. Weber being so nice, but also because I loved looking at the photos she had all over her walls of incredible looking places. In each photo, there was Mrs. Weber, smiling, holding a drink or standing in front of a beautiful building or monument. She said that the photos were mementos of each of her holidays._

_She went on an international holiday three times a year at least, she told me. She said that she used to go by airplane but now energy tariff's meant that she had to go by boat or train instead, but she still went because you have to see the world, otherwise what's the point?_

_I wanted to ask 'the point of what?' but I didn't because you're not meant to ask questions, it's not polite. She said that she had been to a hundred and fifty different countries, some more than twice, and I tried to stop my mouth from dropping open because I didn't want her to know that I hadn't know there were that many countries in the world._

_We don't learn about countries at Grange Hall._

_Mrs. Weber has probably been to four hundred and fifty three countries now, because it was a whole year ago that I was at her house I wish I was still her housekeeper._

_She didn't hit me even once._

_It must have been amazing to travel to foreign countries. Mrs. Weber showed me a map of the world and showed me where England is. She told me about the deserts in the Middle East, about the mountains in India and about the sea. I think my favorite place would probably be the desert because apparently there are no people there at all._

_It would be hard to b a surplus in the desert –even if you knew you were one really, there wouldn't be anyone else to remind you._

_I'd probably never see the desert though. Mrs. Denali says it's all disappearing fast because they can build on it now. Desert is a luxury this world can't afford and, she says. And I should be worrying about the state of my ironing, not thinking of the places I'll never be able to go. I'm not sure she's exactly right about that, although I'd never say that to her._

_Mrs. Weber said she had a housekeeper once who used to go with her travelling around the world, doing her packing and organizing the tickets and things like that. She had her for forty years, she told me, and she was very sad to see her go because her new housekeeper can't take the hot temperatures, so she has to leave her behind when she goes away. _

_If I could get a job with a lady that travels a lot, I don't think I'd mind the hot temperatures. The desert's the hottest place of all and I'm sure I'd love it there…_

"Bella! Bella will you come here this minute!"

Bella looked up from the small journal Mrs. Weber had given her as a parting gift and quickly returned it, and her pen, to its hiding place.

"Yes, House Matron" she replied flustered, and rushed out of the female bathroom 2 and down the corridor, her face flushed. How long had Mrs. Denali been calling her? How had she not heard her call?

The truth was that she never realized how absorbing it could be to write. She'd had Mrs. Weber's journal for a year now. It was a small, fat book covered in a pale green suede and filled with thick, creamy pages that looked so beautiful she couldn't ever imagine ruining them by making a single mark on that lovely, crisp paper.

Every so often she'd taken it out to look at it. She would turn it over in her hands, guiltily enjoying the soft texture of the suede against her skin before secreting it away again.

But she'd never written in it –not until today that is. Today, for some sort of reason, she had taken it out, picked up a pen and without even thinking about it started to write. And once she started she found that she didn't want to stop. Thoughts and feelings that usually stayed hidden beneath the worries and exhaustion suddenly came up to the surface, gasping for air.

Which was all very well, but if it was discovered she would be beaten.

Number one, she wasn't allowed to accept gifts from anyone.

And number two, journals and writing were forbidden in Grange Hall. Surpluses were not there to read and write; they were not there to learn and work, Mrs. Denali told them regularly. She said that things would be much easier if they didn't have to teach us how to read and write in the first place, because reading and writing were a dangerous business; they were what made you think, and surpluses who thought too much were useless and difficult.

But people wanted maids and housekeepers who were literate, so Mrs. Denali didn't have a choice.

If she were truly valuable asset material, she would get rid of the journal completely. Bella knew that. Temptation was a test, Mrs. Denali often said.

She had already tried to get rid of it once now, a few weeks after accepting the gift Bella had tried to flush it down the toilet, but the smooth texture of the journal and the possessiveness she felt for it stopped her.

Bella had already failed twice then; first by accepting the gift and now b y writing in it. A true valuable asset wouldn't succumb to temptation like that…would they?

A valuable asset wouldn't break the rules.

But Bella, who never broke any rules, who believed that regulations existed to be followed to the letter, had finally found a temptation that she could not resist. Now that the journal bore her writing, she knew that the stakes had been raised, and yet she could not bear to lose it…whatever the cost.

She would simply have to ensure that it was never found, she resolved as she raced towards Mrs. Denali's office. If no one knew her guilt secret, then perhaps she could bury her feelings along with the journal and convince herself that she wasn't evil after all, that the little fragment of peace she had carved out for herself at Grange Hall was not really in jeopardy.

Before she turned the corner, Bella took a quick look at herself and smoothed down her overalls. Surpluses had to look neat and orderly at all times, and the last thing that Bella wanted was to irk Mrs. Denali unnecessarily.

She was a prefect now, which means that she got second helpings at supper when there was food left over, and an extra blanket that meant the difference between a good night's sleep and one spent shivering from the cold in the dark. No, the last thing she wanted was trouble.

Taking a deep breath and focusing so that she would appear to Mrs. Denali the usual calm and collected Bella, she turned the corner and knocked on the House Matron's open door.

Mrs. Denali's office was a cold room with a wooden floor, yellowing walls covered in dirty peeling paint and a harsh over head light that seemed to highlight all the cracks in the walls and the dust covering all the surfaces.

Even though she was nearly seventeen now Bella had been in that room enough times for a beating or some other punishment to feel an instinctive fear every time she crossed the threshold.

"Bella, there you are" Mrs. Denali said, her voice irritable. "Please don't keep me waiting like that in the future. I want you to prepare a bed for the new boy"

Bella nodded "Yes, House Matron" she replied deferentially "small?"

The incumbents at Grange Hall were classified as small, medium and pending.

Small was the usual entrant size –anything from babies to toddlers up to five years old.

You always knew when a new small had arrived because of the constant crying and screaming which could sometimes go on for days as they acclimated to their new surroundings –which was why the small dormitories were tucked away on the top floor where they wouldn't disturb anyone else.

That was the idea anyway; in reality, you could never from the crying completely. It pervaded everything both the new wailing of the new smalls and the memories the sounds invoked in everybody else; years of crying which hung in the air like a ghost with unfinished business.

Few ever truly forgot their first weeks and months in the new, harsh surroundings of Grange Hall; few enjoyed the memory of being wrenched from the desperate parents and transported in the dead of the night to their new, stark and regimented home.

Every time a new small arrived, the others did their best to close their eyes and block their ears to ignore the memories that inevitably found their way into consciousness.

No one felt sorry for them –if anything they felt resentment and anger. One more surplus makes things harder for the rest of us.

Middles were six year olds up to about eleven or twelve. Some of the new middles arrived from time to time, and they tended to be quiet and withdrawn rather than cry. Middles learnt faster how institutional life worked, they figured out that tears and tantrums were not tolerated and were not worth the beating.

But whilst they were easier to manage than the smalls, they brought their own set of problems. Because they arrived late, because they had to spend so long with their parents, they often had some bad ideas about things.

Some would make challenges, in Science and Nature classes; others, like Jessica, secretly held onto the belief that their parents would come for them. Middles could be really idiotic sometimes, refusing to accept that they were lucky to be at Grange Hall.

Bella herself was a pending. Pending employment. Pending was when the training really started and you were expected to learn everything you'd need for future employers.

Pending was also when they started testing you, starting up discussions on topics like Longevity drugs and parents and surpluses, just to see whether you knew your place or not, whether you were fit for the outside world.

Bella was far too clever for that trick. She wasn't going to be one of the stupid ones that jumped at the first chance to speak their mind and started to criticize the Declaration.

They got their two minutes of glory and then got shipped out to a detention centre. Hard labour was what Mrs. Denali called it.

Bella shuddered at the thought.

Anyway, she did know her place and didn't want to argue against science and nature and the authorities. She felt bad enough for existing without becoming a trouble maker to boot.

Mrs. Denali frowned

"No, not small. Make the bed up in the pending dormitory"

Bella's eyes opened wide and burned with curiosity which she could barely keep inside. No one had ever joined Grange Hall as a pending. It had to be a mistake. Unless he had been trained somewhere else, of course.

"Has…has he come from another surplus hall?" Bella asked before she could stop herself. Mrs. Denali didn't approve of asking questions unless they involved clarification of a specific task.

Mrs. Denali's eyes narrowed slightly.

"That is all surplus Bella" she said with a cursory nod "You'll have it ready in an hour" she stated.

Bella nodded silently and turned to leave; trying not to betray the intense curiosity she was feeling. A pending surplus would be at least thirteen.

Who was he?

Where had he been all this time?

And why was he coming here now?

**Sooooo….**

**What do you guys think?**

**I think this chapter went pretty well, so I would love to know from your reviews how you feel about this story and whether it's worth me continuing.**

**Please let me know what you think, it helps inspire me more and write longer chapters :)**

**R & R**

**xoxo**

**-GreenEyes555**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine, all the rest belong to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.**

Chapter two

Edward didn't appear until a week later. He turned up in the middle of Science and Nature, Bella tried not to even look at him because that's what everyone was doing and she didn't want him to know that she was curious.

No doubt he'd think he was something special and she wasn't having that.

Anyway, she knew something that no one else knew. She knew that he hadn't arrived that week; he'd arrived the week before, just like Mrs. Denali said he would. Only he arrived late at night, and they must have taken him away somewhere because his bed hadn't been slept in when she looked the next day.

It had been about one in the morning that she had heard him arrive several days before. Everyone else had been asleep, but Bella had been up on Floor 2, scribbling away in her journal before hiding it away in the one place that she was sure it would never be found.

The whole of Grange Hall had been silent except for a few dripping taps and the faint crying from the top floor, which suited Bella perfectly because it meant that she was safe, that no one would interrupt her.

On her way back to her dorm from Mrs. Denali's office earlier that evening, she had told herself that she would throw the journal away, ashamed that she'd succumbed to temptation so easily.

But the thought of losing it made her wince with pain and longing, and immediately arguments for keeping it flooded her head, the most convincing that it would get found if she threw it away. There was no way a pale green suede journal would sit in a dustbin unnoticed, and even if she wrapped it up with old newspaper, someone would find it at some point, and when they did they'd find her writing in it.

No.

She'd decided that it was much safer hidden and Female bathroom 2 was the only place that she could think of. Female bathroom 2 was situated on Floor 2, and it had contained a secret long before Bella's journal had entered Grange Hall –a little cavity behind one of the baths.

Bella had discovered it years before when she had dropped her soap down the side of the bath by accident. Knowing that she'd get beaten if she lost it –because soap had to last at least four months at Grange Hall otherwise it was considered being wasteful.

Bella had managed to squirm into a position where her arm could reach down where the soap had fallen, and had found it sitting on a little ledge which was completely hidden from view, unless you knew what you were looking for.

At the time she hadn't really thought much about it –she was so relieved to have got the soap back, she'd just finished her wash quickly and arced back to the dormitory for evening vows. But later on, she'd realized that she had found a little hiding place, and it made her feel both anxious and excited all at once.

It was her little secret.

And although she couldn't pick it up and take it with her, it was; apart from her Grange Hall overalls, toothbrush and facecloth, the first thing she'd ever owned.

Surpluses weren't allowed possessions; they had no right to own things in a world that they'd gate-crashed, Mrs. Denali said. And although Bella didn't think that a secret cavity really constituted as a possession, in the weeks afterwards, as if encouraged by this one first step on the ownership scale she'd begun to acquire things that were more tangible assets. Like a magpie, she had alighted upon a scrap of fabric that had been torn of a skirt from laundry, and a tea-spoon that had been left by someone in the house room, both of which she had put in her secret hiding place, delirious In the knowledge that she knew something no one else did.

Either way, the journal was waiting for her that night the new surplus arrived. Bella had gone to Female bathroom 2 for a late night wash, just to check that it was safe, just to hold it in her hands one more time and to see for herself the words that she had created, that she had made her mark with.

It had been a long day, what with training, cooking practical and then having to make up the bed for the new surplus in the pending boy's dormitory.

She had completed all her chores, and meticulously made up the new surpluses bed with one sheet and one blanket, and had a facecloth, toothbrush soap and a tube of toothpaste placed on top of it, just like Mrs. Denali asked her to.

As she sat shivering in the freezing, cold bath (surpluses weren't allowed hot baths –they weren't allowed to use any more of the world's resources other than what was absolutely necessary), Bella, the prefect found her arm gingerly easing its way down the side of the tub, her reward for good behavior.

Bella had known it was wrong, but its hold on her was too strong to resist, and, as she had pulled it out, she could feel herself tremble with excitement.

The light, soft green between her fingers and the news that there was a new surplus coming had created surges of adrenaline that zipped around her body, causing her toes to clench and her stomach to leap.

A pending surplus from the outside –he'd know what the world was like, he'd be untrained. He'd be …Bella had shuddered with anticipation as she'd began to write.

The truth was that she'd have no idea what he'd be like –dangerous and difficult probably, but she had known things would be different when he arrived. How could they fail to be?

As these thoughts had rushed around her head, she'd looked at the clock on the wall and noted with a sigh that it was a quarter to one. Grange Hall still had clocks in lots of the rooms, even though surpluses didn't need to refer to them. They were fixed to the wall, she'd heard Mrs. Denali tell one of the instructors, and anyway, they reminded Mrs. Denali of a 'better time'.

Bella wasn't sure whether Mrs. Denali meant a long time ago, or whether it was time itself that was better on a clock, but either way, she loved watching the hands slowly moving around the large, round clock faces and had convinced one of the instructors to teach her how to read them, even though she didn't need to.

Surpluses had time embedded in their wrists; surpluses time keeping was in digital. Embedded time had been one of the new ideas for surpluses, when surplus halls were still new. Time wasn't on a surpluses side, Mrs. Denali said.

Time was just one of the things that surpluses didn't deserve. Legals owned time, but surpluses were slaves to it, as every piercing, shrill bell alerted us to feeding, morning or bedtime at Grange Hall.

Embedded time was one of the only new ideas that actually took off, Mrs. Tanner had said once, talking to an instructor when she didn't know Bella was listening.

New ideas didn't tend to surface much anymore, she'd said, because everyone was complacent.

No one could be bothered to come up with new things because it was too much hard work.

And the instructor nodded and said 'what a relief' and Mrs. Tanner looked at her for a moment, as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she just nodded and that was the end of that.

Embedded time sat under the skin, on the wrist, and every moment the surplus made kept the mechanism going so that it wasn't wasteful or resource intensive. And with time ever-present, the authorities argued, no surplus could ever be late; no surplus could ever leave their chores early.

Bella couldn't remember not having embedded time; couldn't imagine why everyone wouldn't have it. But legal people like instructors didn't, they wore watches, which did the same thing, only from outside the wrist.

Bella had glanced down and confirmed that in spite of the authorities' best efforts; she was indeed late, if only for her sleep. She needed to get out of her bath, to calm herself so she could fall into a deep slumber. Otherwise, tomorrow would be torture.

She was safe now the journal was hidden and there was no point thinking about the new surplus. No reason for her to still be feeling jumpy.

Quickly getting out of the tub, she had taken a small towel from the rail in front of her and dried herself mechanically, the rough, dry cotton welcome after the cold, soapy water.

And right then, she'd heard him arrive.

The sounds were muffled and at one point she'd thought she could hear the anguished yelps of an injured dog, but the she'd realized it was probably a gag. They used gags sometimes, if surpluses were particularly noisy. The driving unions had insisted on it, Mrs. Denali said –their members were getting upset.

It was bad enough surpluses existing she said, without them also causing mayhem and hurting legal people.

Then Bella had heard something break and, a few seconds after that, a crack and a noise that sounded like something heavy but soft hitting the floor. Then some more muffled noises and a minute or so later, silence.

She'd crept out of the bathroom and held her breath for a few minutes, listening for something else –perhaps the sound of the surplus being taken to the pending boy's dormitory…but eventually she gave up.

He must have gone to Mrs. Denali's office, she decided. She'd find out tomorrow, anyway.

Right no it's time for bed.

But in the morning, when she'd taken a detour to breakfast in order to have a look at the new resident and perhaps introduce herself, she'd found that the surpluses bed hadn't been slept in at all. The other pending boy's simply shrugged when she'd asked them about him; Mrs. Denali hadn't even told them someone new was coming.

When there was no sign of him the next day, nor the day after that, Bella had begun to think that they must have taken him to a different surplus hall, or maybe to a detention centre; perhaps they had decided that pending was too late to arrive at Grange Hall.

But then, a week later, he'd turned up again.

He arrived, dressed in regulation navy overalls, the same overalls that every other surplus wore –shapeless, sturdy and practical –just when Mr. Banner was telling the story of longevity for about the fiftieth time.

Mr. Banner was their science and nature teacher and he never got sick of that story, never tired of telling them about the natural scientists who found a way to cure old age. Before they did that, people used to die.

All the time.

From horrible diseases. And they looked awful too.

Bella knew the story of longevity very well and, like Mr. Banner, she never got sick of it either. Longevity was how humans fulfilled the ambitions of nature. Longevity proved that humans were superior in every way. But with superiority cam responsibility, Mr. Banner said. You couldn't abuse the trust and bounty of Mother Nature.

Before longevity, people died from things called cancer, heart disease and Aids. They also got something called disability, sometimes, which meant that something went wrong and couldn't be fixed. Like if someone lost their leg in an accident or something, they had to spend the rest of their life in a chair with wheels on it because they couldn't make new legs back then.

Renewal didn't exist and brain exercises weren't invented yet, and everyone died by the time they were seventy, apart from a few lucky people, but they weren't really that lucky; they were tired all the time and couldn't hear properly so they might as well have been dead, really.

Then the scientists discovered renewal, where you could get, new, fresh cells to replace old ones and they mended the rest of your cells too.

First they cured cancer.

Then they cured heart disease.

It took them quite a bit longer to cure Aids, but eventually they cured that too, although it needed more cells.

And then a natural scientist called Dr. Gerandy discovered something else. He found out that renewal worked against old age too. He took some of the drugs himself to see what happened, and he stopped getting older, just like that. Only he didn't tell anyone about it for a while. And when he did the authorities (which used to be called the government) made it illegal to take drugs if you didn't have Aids or cancer, because they were worried about things called pensions and people being a burden on the state.

Dr. Gerandy eventually died because he wasn't allowed to take the drugs anymore, but a few years later, the authorities realized that with longevity, people wouldn't have to stop working. If people didn't get ill, the government would save lots of money, by then longevity drugs were being taken by people anyway, only they were doing It illegally.

There were lots of people saying that longevity drugs should be legalized, and so in 2030 the prime minister commissioned a trial. And when he realized that there were no side effects and that people could now live forever, he decided that this was a breakthrough, and the biggest drug companies in England got together to start producing longevity drugs for everyone.

That's when dying stopped, first in Europe, America and China and then, gradually, everywhere else. Some countries were late adopters, because the drugs were expensive, but then terrorists started to attack England because they wouldn't give everyone the drugs and soon after that the price got lower so everyone could have them.

"And what do you think happened then?" Mr. Banner always asked, his beady eyes searching for someone in the classroom who could capture the fundamental flaw in the programme.

More times than not, Bella would raise her hand.

"There were too many people," she would say seriously "If no one dies and people have more children, there's nowhere for everyone to go."

"Exactly" Mr. Banner would say.

And then he would proceed to tell them about the Declaration, which was introduced in 2065, and which said that people could only have one baby. If they tried to have another, it would be terminated.

Then, a few years after that, they realized that one baby was still too many. So in 2080 the new Declaration was created and said that no one could have any children unless they opted out of longevity completely. Every country had to sign the Declaration, and surplus police, or catchers, as they had began to be called, were responsible for tracking down anyone who broke it.

Opting out means that you were allowed to have a child '_one child per opt out' _or _'a life for a life'_ as the Declaration put it.

But that means you would get ill and die, so opting out wasn't very popular.

People who opted out were regarded with suspicion, Mr. Banner told us. Who would die just to have a child, when you didn't even know if the child would be any good?

Of course, there were some selfish, criminal people who didn't opt out an still had children to suck up the world's natural resources and ruin things for the legal people…but they all knew about that, didn't they?

That was why Grange Hall existed –to give the surpluses that resulted from such criminality a purpose; to help them learn their responsibilities and to train them to provide a useful service to Legals.

Surpluses weren't allowed longevity drugs either.

"Why prolong the agony?" Mr. Banner said.

And that was the point at which Edward arrived. The door opened, Mrs. Denali walked in, followed by Edward. Bella didn't know he was called Edward then; when she first saw him walk through the door into the science and nature lab, she only knew that this, finally, was the pending surplus. That he hadn't been taken somewhere else after all.

Everyone looked at him, sneakily. Without letting anyone see that she too, was shooting little looks at him.

Bella noted that he was tall and gangly and had very pale skin that had some dark marks on it that could have been bruises but could equally have been dirt.

It was his eyes that really stood out.

They were green, a bright shimmering green which automatically reminded Bella of her secret journal.

His eyes darted around the room, stared, the flickered away, before darting around again like they were looking for something and digesting information.

Mrs. Denali didn't encourage eye contact and if you were caught looking at something or someone when you were meant to be working; you often got a clip round the ear, which meant that generally speaking surpluses spent most of the time with their eyes cast downwards.

The new surplus's eyes were openly inquisitive and defiant, Bella thought to herself, and that could only lead to trouble.

"Sit there" Mrs. Denali instructed him. Pointing to an empty desk "Next to Bella."

Bella tried to look straight ahead as he walked towards her, but her eyes were drawn to him, and as she looked at him she felt her heart begin to beat loudly in her chest.

He was staring right at her, like he wasn't scared of anything, like he didn't know his place at all.

And as soon as Mrs. Denali left, having made it clear that no one was to pay the new surplus any special attention, he leant over to her, like it was perfectly ok to talk to someone in the middle of a training session.

"You're Bella Swan, aren't you" he said, so softly that Bella thought she might have imagined it.

"I know you parents…"

**cliffy...*dont kill me***

**I would love to know what you guys think about this story, i'm thinking maybe ten/fifteen reviews till the next chapter :)**

**Let me know what you think...it helps inspire me to write **

**xoxo**

**-GreenEyes555**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the stuff you don't notice, everything else belongs to Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.**

Chapter three

The new surplus, Bella decided almost immediately, was going to have trouble fitting in and learning his place. And if he thought that it was funny and clever to tell lies and to talk about people's parents as if they weren't selfish criminals, then he would learn soon enough that those kinds of things lead to Solitary or a beating.

She had ignored him completely after his inappropriate comments about her parents, which had made her both irritable and uncomfortable.

But whenever she turned a corner, he seemed to be there, looking at her with those challenging eyes and making her feel awkward; even though he was the new one and if anyone should be feeling awkward it was him.

And so she wasn't particularly pleased when, a few days later on her way to Female stockroom 2, she found him waiting in the corridor just outside the sanatorium, which was also on floor 2, along with most of the female dormitories.

Grange Hall corridors were very long, covering the width of the building. There were five storeys, including the basement –floor 0 housed the training rooms, central feeding and Mrs. Denali's office; Floor 1 housed the boy's dormitories with ten large rooms accommodating between ten and twenty occupants each (you could fit more Middles in a dormitory than Pendings, particularly the younger ones) and two bathrooms; Floor 2 housed the girls in a similar way.

Floor 3 housed the smalls and the Domestics, who were Legals that performed any cleaning and cooking tasks that weren't taken care of by surpluses, and whose job it was to care for the smalls, although 'care' didn't come into it much.

Every room and corridor was decorated in the same way –pale grey walls, darker grey concrete floors, fluorescent lighting and thin radiators which had been fitted when Grange Hall served a different purpose; now they were permanently turned off because surpluses, Mrs. Denali said, had no right to central heating.

The low ceiling and triple-glazed windows, each covered by a long, grey vertical blind, kept in the heat as well as excluding the outside; security cameras on the perimeter walls screened every visitor to the Hall and ensured that no one could leave unseen.

When Bella came across Edward, she was on her way to replenish the stock cupboard, one of her jobs as a prefect, and in her hand she was carrying a detailed list of how many tubes of toothpaste and bars of soap had been used in the past month by the surpluses in her dormitory.

One tube or bar too many, and they would all be made to work extra hours to make up for the squandering of essential resources.

Bella's dormitory never went over their quota, she made sure of that.

She looked at Edward, narrowing her eyes slightly as she passed him, and it was only when he said her name that she reluctantly stopped.

"Bella" he said softly "Bella Swan"

She stared at him angrily.

"Surplus Bella" she corrected him "Please don't use words from the outside in Grange Hall, and please don't pretend that you know my parents, because as far as I'm concerned I don't have any"

Edward looked at her uncomprehendingly his eyes making her shift uncomfortably on her feet because she wasn't used to anyone scrutinized her like that.

"So what goes on in here, then?" he asked looking at the door to the sanatorium.

"Health checks" Bella said curtly "You'll be checked for any weaknesses and given vaccinations against diseases. And weighed. Surpluses have a duty to maintain their health so as not to burden the earth any further with illness."

Edward raised his eyebrows "I thought surpluses weren't allowed drugs. I thought they wanted surpluses to die off as quickly as possible."

His voice was low and had an edge to it and Bella found herself getting unusually warm.

"Of course surpluses can't have drugs" she said crossly, "Vaccinations are preventive, not curative"

She found her eyes drawn to Edward, drawn to his dark agitated eyes, his pale skin, his defiant chin. Quickly she forced herself to look away.

"Being surplus means that you have to limit your impact on the earth," she said with a sigh. "They don't want us dead. They just don't want us spreading disease, or being too weak to be useful."

"And you're 'useful'?" Edward asked softly.

Bella frowned. "Of course. I'm set to be a valuable asset. They're the most useful surpluses."

Edward nodded silently, his eyes cast downwards, then they flickered up to Bella's.

"Do you have computers here? Or a library?"

Bella stared at him "Computers?" she asked cautiously.

She knew what computers were. Mrs. Weber turned hers on for two hours a day to watch television programmes and to read about the news, and Mrs. Denali had one too, but Bella had never actually used one. How could she, when anything that used unnecessary electricity, was banished from Grange Hall?

She didn't like the idea that this new surplus might know more than she did.

"We don't need computers" she said defensively "And anyway they use too much energy. Everyone knows that."

"Of course they do. Silly me." Edward said with a sigh.

His foot was tapping the ground beneath it, and once more, Bella felt her eyes being pulled to his strong slender frame.

He seemed so full of confidence, energy and curiosity, and it made Bella both intrigued and nervous. Surpluses were trained to be passive and obedient, and just the glint in Edward's eyes made Bella feel like she was looking at something she shouldn't, like she was being drawn into a whirlpool, even though she suspected that the current would be too strong, she knew she couldn't swim.

"I have to go now," she said quickly. "I have stock to collect"

She started to walk away, but she stopped again when she heard Edward's voice.

"You. . .you like it here Bella?" he asked softly, his gaze challenging.

Bella turned round and frowned. What kind of question was that?

She bit her lip and found herself reddening as Edward smiled at her, a little twinkle appearing in his eye, which made Bella feel like she was already in the whirlpool and drowning.

"I _am_ here," she said her voice suddenly slightly hoarse "And so are you. Surpluses aren't here to like things, Edward; they're here to do things. Useful things. And the sooner you learn that, the better for everyone."

Quickly, Bella turned and marched briskly down the corridor, trying to push the picture of that smile out of her head and to focus instead on the number of toothpaste tubes she would need for the following month.

Bella didn't see Edward at any more training sessions that day. The male and female surpluses shared certain lessons –science and nature, Decorum, Laundry and House maintenance –but the majority were single sex.

The classes were held in smallish rooms with the desks packed tightly together and on rare hot summer days it was not uncommon for weaker surpluses to faint from heat exhaustion.

Today though, it was bitterly cold, and as she listened to the instructors Bella had been desperately tensing and untensing her leg muscles under her desk, just in order to try and stay warm.

By the time she got to supper that evening, she was so cold and ravenous that she didn't quite notice Edward slipping silently behind her in the queue for broth.

It was only when she had the hot bowl in her hands and was carrying towards one of the long, narrow tables that filled central feeding, that she saw him, and realized that he was about to sit down next to her.

"Usually the boy's sit together" she said tightly, as she put her bowl down and immediately started to spoon the lumpy mixture into her mouth. She felt tired and irritable, and she just wanted to sit quietly and eat her food; the last thing she needed was Edward and his stupid comments and constant questions.

"But not always" Edward asked, putting his bowl on the table noisily scraping back the bench so he could sit down.

Bella ignored him and continued to eat as the table filled up.

"This is disgusting" Edward said a few moments later. "What is it?, It tastes vile"

No one said anything, and after a few seconds of silence, Bella reluctantly put her spoon down.

'This is good nutritious food," she said wearily.

"What's good and nutritious about it?" Edward demanded "This isn't even meat. It's like sawdust."

Bella swallowed her mouthful. "Its reconstituted meat," she said "With flour to thicken it. And I think it's delicious."

"Then you can have mine." Edward said pushing his bowl towards her.

Bella stared at him "You have to eat your food, Edward. It's our duty to stay strong. . ."

"Strong and healthy, yeah," Edward interrupted her. "Well, I'm not going to be either if I eat this."

Bella felt her heart begin to quicken in her chest. All the other surpluses at the table were studiously looking down, but that didn't mean they didn't know what was going on. An offer of extra food was a rare thing, and Bella's eyes were already looking at Edward's bowl greedily. But if Mrs. Denali found out that Edward hadn't eaten, she might be beaten for selfishness and he might be beaten for being ungrateful.

Looking around furtively, Bella grabbed Edward's bowl and poured half of its contents into her bowl, then pushed it back towards Edward.

"You have to eat the rest," she said, her voice low. "You have to eat something."

Edward shrugged. "There's worse things than being hungry, you know." He said softly. "Don't you agree, Bella?"

She could feel Edward's eyes on her, and she decided to ignore him, gulping down her broth quickly. She wanted to get away from him Edward, wanted him to stop talking to her and looking at her as though he thought she was interested in anything he had to say.

But instead of taking her hint, Edward moved his head closer to Bella's.

'Your mother is a wonderful cook, Bella. She makes the most delicious food. Shall I tell you?"

Bella clamped her hands over her ears, knocking her spoon to the ground in the process.

"No." she hissed "No, she doesn't, and no I don't want you to tell me anything."

She leant down to pick up her spoon, but as she reached for it, a large, heavy foot landed on her fingers and she yelped.

"Dropped something?" a voice asked, and Bella grimaced. It was surplus James, another Pending, tall like Edward but broad too, his large frame pushing through at the seams of his overalls.

"Get off my hand," Bella said angrily, pushing at his leg with her free hand. "I'll report you. . ."

"Are you bowing down to me surplus Bella?" James asked thinly, his blueish eyes mocking her."It looks to me as if you might have finally learnt your place."

Bella gritted her teeth and tried again to pull her hand free, but before she could do so, James suddenly went tumbling to the floor. She rescued her hand and sat up to see Edward towering over James, his foot pressed into his chest.

"Maybe _you_ need to learn your place" Edward growled "Maybe you need to learn some manners too."

He looked at Bella with a little smile.

'What shall I do with him, Bella Swan" he mouthed silently, and she stared at him fearfully. Fights between surpluses were tolerated in dormitories, but in central feeding surpluses weren't encouraged to even talk to each other; Edward could have all three of them beaten if any of the instructors saw what had just happened. What made it worse was that he had pushed James down to defend her, and it made Bella feel vulnerable, the one thing she'd worked so hard to avoid.

"I don't need a protector Surplus Edward," she said angrily. "And if you don't let surplus James go right this minute, we'll all end up in solitary. You might be comfortable down there, but I'm not, thank you very much."

Edward frowned slightly, then shrugged and moved his foot.

James scrambled to his feet and looked up at Edward menacingly, "You'll regret that, you outside scum" he spat bitterly.

James walked away to join the food queue, and Edward sat back down next to Bella, making her shift along the bench self-consciously. Everyone was staring at them, and she could feel her heart quickening and she felt Edward's eyes looking towards her.

'I was only trying to help," he muttered, putting his elbows on the table and hunching over them.

"Surpluses don't help each other; we're here to help Legals," Bella said tightly. "And I can handle things on my own, thank you very much."

"Fine," Edward said irritably. "Then I'm sorry I even bothered. I just thought. . ."

"Well don't!" Bella snapped. Her eyes flickered over to Edward and met his, and they managed to stare at each other for a few seconds, before Bella managed to pull her eyes away.

**Awww poor Edward, Trying to impress Bella ;)**

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**-GreenEyes555**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize, that all belongs to Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.**

Chapter four

_11 February, 2140_

_The new surplus is 'difficult'. He thinks he's better than a surplus, thinks he's better than me. And he's not. He's quite stupid, actually, and he lies all the time._

_He's already been in solitary twice, and frankly I think he should be kept down there._

_He doesn't know his place and he thinks it's ok to whisper things during training sessions when it isn't at all. He said he wasn't surplus Edward; that he was called Edward Masen, like he was Legal or something. And he told me many times that my name was Bella Swan and that he knows my parents._

_I mean how stupid is that? Everyone knows that surpluses don't have more than one name, and that my parents are in prison where they belong. What –he grew up in prison with them?_

_Yeah, right._

_He's a troublemaker, just like I thought he'd be. And he's lying, just to get some attention._

_Like Jessica did when she first arrived._

_It shows what happens when they don't catch surpluses early enough. Shows how lucky I am to have come here to Grange Hall when I did. The way he walks, you'd really think he was Legal. You'd think the world belongs to him, when the truth is he's got no right to be here, like the rest of us._

_There was another boy here once before who didn't fit in either. His name was Eric and when he arrived he cried all the time, even though he was virtually Middle and should have been more grown-up than that. He was always in solitary or getting beaten, because when he wasn't crying he was arguing with the instructors, telling them that he wanted to go home, that is parents were going to find him and then Mrs. Denali would be sorry._

_I tried to talk some sense into him, but he refused to listen. Mrs. Denali says that' sometimes surpluses find it hard to adjust and don't like to 'face facts'._

_He thought he was better than everybody else, Mrs. Denali said._

_He only stayed a few weeks and then they took him away. Mrs. Denali said that he was going to a detention centre, where they could deal with people like Eric better, where he wouldn't interfere with our training._

_If Edward isn't careful, he'll end up going there too._

_Mrs. Denali said that they have to do hard labour all the time in a detention centre. And that the boy's don't even get one blanket, even when it's really cold. It was for Eric's only good that he went there, Mrs. Denali said._

_If he didn't learn how to be a surplus, he'd never find employment, and then what would he do?_

_Yesterday, Edward was put in solitary confinement because he told Mr. Banner that it was old people who were surpluses, not us. None of us could believe it when he said that and I've never seen Mr. Banner so angry._

_He didn't even go red –he went white instead and the vein on his forehead started throbbing. I think he was going to beat him, but then decided to call Mrs. Denali instead and Edward was taken away to Solitary._

_The worst thing of all was that he winked at me as they took him out. Like it was really cool to be put in Solitary._

_He came out this evening, but I'm not sure it taught him anything, because he still grinned at me stupidly across central feeding, like we were friends or something._

_Edward isn't my friend._

_I wish Mrs. Denali would send him away so things can get back to normal around here. Or even better I wish Mrs. Weber would decide that she wants me as her permanent housekeeper, to go around the world with her and keep her house spotless and clean. I wish she's take me a long way from here. . . . ._

Bella carefully closed her journal and secreted it back onto the ledge behind the bath. Already it felt like a close friend, a confidante. When she'd been little, she and the other surpluses in her dormitory used to talk to each other, sometime late into the night, sharing secrets and thoughts.

But then Mrs. Denali had appointed her dormitory Monitor, which means that she had to report any secrets or wrongdoings of anyone in the dorm.

It hadn't taken long for her former friends to stop talking her into their confidence and ever since then she'd become used to walking into a room and seeing groups of people breaking up, whispered conversations halting. She didn't care, she told herself proudly; it was more important to be a good surplus.

Surpluses weren't supposed to spend time whispering to each other anyway. They were supposed to take orders, to listen to the Legals.

Bella was determined to be the best surplus ever. She'd be so good; it would almost make up for her existing in the first place.

But it was still quite lonely having no one to talk to, particularly now, with surplus Edward making her feel agitated and confused. He'd been at Grange Hall for three weeks, and every time she glimpsed him in the corridor, Bella felt herself go red and found herself looking away, only to turn to look at him once he'd passed.

He unsettled her, kept trying to talk to her when all she wanted him to do was leave her alone. Bella felt like he was watching her constantly with that slightly mocking smile on his face, making her feel self-conscious, and confused, and she was determined not to let him know that she'd noticed.

After getting out of the bathtub and drying herself quickly, Bella shot one last look at the bath to make sure that her journal was completely hidden, and made her way back up to her dormitory, running through the next day's schedule in her head as she went.

Managing Surpluses Efficiently was at 8.30 a.m., followed by Decorum at 9.30 a.m., and then they were having a polishing demonstration with some real silver.

Mrs. Weber had a great deal of silver in her house –cutlery, candlesticks, frames and more, so Bella was quite confident that she would impress everyone with her ability to create a real shine.

"It's a job you can't rush" Mrs. Weber had told her. "And nor should you want to. Polishing silver is therapeutic" Bella agreed.

Silver is beautiful when it gleamed and she hoped that one day she would work in a house with as much silver as Mrs. Weber had .

Everyone was asleep by the time Bella had got back to her dormitory. Quietly, she slipped off her robe and got under the thin sheet and blankets; tucking the edges under herself to keep her warmth in and allowing herself to fall quickly into an exhausted sleep.

She was so tired that when, twenty or so minutes later, she felt a light tap on her shoulder, she nearly slept through it. But the tapping was insistent and wrenched her from her dreamless sleep and back into the cold, dark dormitory.

She opened her eyes silently, and then sat up, her eyes wide with incredulity at the person in front of her.

It was Edward, crouched down over her bed.

She frowned "You. . .How. . . What are you doing here?" she hissed.

She was angry, and she didn't mind him knowing it. It was nearly midnight, and she needed these precious hours of sleep.

Edward, sitting in front of her with an anxious look on his face, had broken so many rules coming here that they could both be doing hard labour for weeks, months even. Pending boy's never came anywhere near the Pending girl's dormitories.

"What are you doing here?" Bella repeated crossly, before he could respond to her first questions, outraged that Edward should willingly break so many rules, as if they somehow didn't apply to him.

Edward moved his finger to his mouth as if to tell Bella to stay silent, then looked around the dormitory quickly, his eyes darting from bed to bed. He leant over and took her hand.

"Bella Swan, I have to tell you about your parents" he whispered. "They want me to find you. You've got to get away from that evil Mrs. Denali. I've come to take you home, Bella."

Bella pushed him away and her eyes narrowed.

"You do not know my parents and I have no home" she hissed "my name is Bella. Just Bella. I'm a surplus. And so are you. Get used to it, and leave me alone."

Edward frowned lightly, but made no attempt to move.

"You have a birth mark on your stomach," he whispered softly, "It looks a bit like a butterfly."

Bella froze and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand upright. How did he know that? Who was he? Why was he telling her this?

"I have to get back" Edward said, before she could say anything.

And then he left, silently slinking out of the dormitory and disappearing down the corridor. Like a ghost, Bella thought as she lay back down on her bed, a sudden overwhelming desire to cry washing over her.

Slowly, she moved her hand down her stomach, where she felt for the red birthmark just above her belly button. The birthmark that had caused her nothing but shame, the birthmark that she kept hidden at all costs to avoid the taunting and name calling that inevitably started when anyone saw it.

How did Edward know about it? Who had told him it was shaped like a butterfly, she wondered.

When Mrs. Denali had first seen it, she'd remarked that it looked like a dead moth and had said that it was Mother Nature's way of branding Bella a pest. Moths ate things that belong to other people, she'd told her, and abused their hosts.

"How very apt" she'd said.

And yet, Edward's description stirred something in Bella, almost a memory but not quite; more a vague feeling that at some point she too, had thought it resembled a butterfly.

Bella almost thought she remembered believing, when she was little, that it was a sign that when she was older she would grow wings and fly away from Grange Hall. But Mrs. Denali had been right –it wasn't a butterfly, it was a moth. It was red and ugly and she hated it.

How dare Edward come here and remind her of it? How dare he sneak around the place, confusing her and pretending he knew things he didn't, telling her that Mrs. Denali was evil? Maybe it was all part of an elaborate test, she thought to herself.

Perhaps right now he was reporting her back to Mrs. Denali and working out new ways to trap her into saying something or doing something wrong. Perhaps she should have told him that Mrs. Denali wasn't evil, she thought worriedly, little beads of sweat appearing on her forehead in spite of the cold. But she hadn't had a chance had she?

The she shook herself; it was a stupid idea. Mrs. Denali would never use someone like him as a spy. She didn't trust Edward one bit; Bella could tell from the way she never took her eyes from him.

So if he wasn't a spy, there had to be some other explanation. Someone must have told him about her birthmark. They were probably all laughing about her right now.

Not that it mattered. Whoever he said he was, she wasn't going to listen to him. She was a prefect and that meant not entertaining any nonsense.

Turning over, Bella closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep.

But it was a restless sleep, and throughout the night her dreams were filled with crying children, a woman screaming and a little butterfly, trapped in a cold, grey prison.

**okay guys this is it for this chapter, let me know what you guys think and i'll have the next chapter up soon :)**

**Review please**

**xoxo**

**-GreenEyes555**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you notice, everything belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer**.

Edward proved to be a fast learner. He quickly learnt the layout of Grange Hall and when Bella tested him on the daily schedule she was impressed to find that he'd managed to learn it off by heart within a day.

She couldn't be sure whether he was concentrating in the boys-only training sessions, but in the sessions she shared with him, he was well behaved and polite. If it wasn't for his insistence on calling her Bella Swan, he'd be like any other surplus. He'd even sat through a science and nature class without saying anything, although afterwards, when he and Bella had been alone he had erupted.

"It's all lies. Lies!" he muttered, his eyes darting around to check that no one was listening.

"Anna, you have to believe me. This was not what Mother Nature wanted . . ."

Bella had shaken her head.

"You only think that because your parents wanted to have their cake and eat it" she said firmly "You shouldn't be angry with Mr. Banner –be angry with your parents. They're the ones who broke the Declaration. They're the ones who put you here."

He disagreed of course. He always did. In the corridors, in the central feeding, whenever they could speak without being overheard, he railed against Grange Hall, against the instructors, against everything as far as Bella could tell.

Mostly, she told him to be quiet and to show more respect for Mother Nature and the authorities, but sometimes her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself furtively asking questions about his life before Grange Hall, pretending as she did so that she wasn't really that interested.

The truth was that Edward was a window through which Bella could glimpse the world outside, and the temptation to look was quite overwhelming.

Edward lived in London, he told her, in a house in Bloomsbury, a place where famous writers used to live many years ago. That had interested Bella, who was still hiding in the female bathroom 2 as often as she could to scribble in her journal, relishing those moments in which she tried to make sense of her world and vented her frustrations.

The house where Edward had grown up had an underground apartment, which was where he spent most of his time when he was little. He'd been taught to read, write, and how to use a computer and to 'question things'. He had read books and newspapers and had been encouraged to 'form opinions'.

The very idea of being allowed to read stories that weren't at all to do with making you more useful seemed exciting to Bella, who had only ever been allowed to read approved text books on longevity drugs and housekeeping, along with long, ponderous works like _Surplus Shame_ and _The Surplus Burden on Nature: A Treatise, _books which extolled the achievements of longevity and explained in long, detailed paragraphs the surplus problem and the enlightened humane approach, which enabled surpluses to work in order to cover their sin of existence.

Bella had read these books again and again, relishing the beautiful words and the cogent, well-structured arguments, which had convinced her, above and beyond anything Mrs. Denali had told her, that life was an imposition, that all she could do was to work hard in the hope that she might eventually be so valuable that her Sin of Existence might be forgiven.

Edward on the other hand, knew nothing of these books, but he made up for it with knowledge of the outside, of things that Bella had never dreamt of seeing or touching. Once a year, he told her he'd been smuggled out of the house for a trip to the country, where there was a piece of land so big he could run around without anyone seeing him or hearing him shout.

He would scream and yell as loudly as he could on those brief sojourns, knowing that for the rest of the year of his life was to be conducted in whispers and furtive movements.

Edward didn't talk much about his parents –not at all actually, but he said that the adults he knew were all part of an underground movement that had been set up to fight the authorities, to challenge the Declaration. When Bella's parents had got out of prison, they joined the Declaration too, and Edward had gone to live with them. He said that they were trying to find out more about the use of surpluses.

Bella didn't really believe him, and has very little interest in his hatred of the system or tales of her supposed parents. But she treasured the guilty pleasure of listening to him talk about his life on the outside, enjoyed the idea of running around a field, shouting and laughing. She thought that she would like that very much.

It was one such tale of the outside that Edward was whispering to Bella one evening, just over a month after his first arrival at Grange Hall. The two of them had finished clearing up central feeding after supper and were sitting at one of the tables drying cutlery.

As they picked up the old, stainless steel forks and knives, drying them methodically with old rags, he described sitting by an open fire in the country made up of illicitly collected driftwood, toasting marshmallows and playing something called a card game. And then he told her about Virginia Woolf, a writer who lived in Bloomsbury many, many years ago and had her first book published in 1915. She wrote all the time, Edward told her, but even writing couldn't make her happy and in the end she killed herself.

Bella listened in silence as she did her best to scrape the congealed fat from the knife she was holding –washing the cutlery in tepid water rarely achieved more than dislodging large pieces of food, and cleaning fluids weren't considered necessary or affordable by Mrs. Denali. If Virginia Woolf had been a Legal, what could have made her want to die, she wondered.

Virginia Woolf could probably have made as much noise as she wanted and wouldn't have had any guilt at all to carry with her. She frowned, and noticed that Edward was staring at her. She still found it disconcerting the way he looked right at people, unashamedly.

"What" she asked "You know that you shouldn't look at people like that. It's rude."

Edward grinned as if he didn't really care if it was rude or not, then his face turned serious.

"You really hate your parents?" he asked her softly.

Bella answered without thinking "Of course I hate them, it's all their fault."

"What is?"

Bella sighed. Sometimes Edward could be really dim.

"Me being here. Being responsible. Paying back Mother Nature for their sins. Whatever you say, the Declaration was introduced for a reason and my parents abused Mother Nature benevolence. They make me sick."

"And you seriously believe that they're wrong and the authorities are right?"

Bella nodded. "Of course I believe it," she said flatly "It's the truth. Even if you do know them, I don't care. They deserve to go back to prison and stay there for the rest of their lives. Now just shut up about it."

Edward looked at her and took her wrists firmly in his hands.

"Your parents love you," he said in a very low voice. "You're not a surplus to anything, you're Bella Swan, and you should never have been locked away here. Your Mrs. Denali is the person you should hate. She's the one who brainwashed you, the one who beat you and starved you, just like she tried to with me. Just like she'll do again when she realizes she hasn't won. We need to get out of here. We need to get back to London."

Bella stared at him, her mouth set crossly.

"Brainwash!" she said contemptuously. "That isn't even a word."

Edward smiled sarcastically. "Not a word they'd teach in Grange Hall, I suppose, but it is a word Bella. It means to indoctrinate. To make you think things that aren't true, to make you believe things that you don't deserve to live on the outside, that you're lucky to live in this prison."

Bella pulled away, her eyes stinging with tears. Usually she loved to learn new words, treating them as exciting possessions that she could employ as she chose –in her journal, in her conversation –relishing the newness and the beauty of each one. But there was nothing beautiful about the word 'brainwash'.

To clean the brain. To strip it bare.

"If anyone's brain needs washing, it's yours," she said angrily. "You don't know anything. You're full of lies, Edward."

"No," Edward said urgently, pressing her hand. "I'm not the one who's lying Bella. You and I can get out of here. Together. There's a whole world out there, Bella, a whole world for us to explore. And a home waiting for us in London."

He was looking at Bella intently, and she felt herself weaken, felt herself wanting to believe him even if just for a moment, but then she forced his hand away. She couldn't listen to him. Every paragraph in _Surplus Shame_ refuted his arguments, explained in long detailed prose, exactly why he was wrong.

"I don't want to go to London. And anyway, you're talking rubbish," she said passionately. "My parents don't love me. If they loved me, they'd never have had me. And Mrs. Denali's the one who asked me to look after you so I don't know why you hate her so much. She only beats you for your own good, to make you realize the truth . . ."

She felt her voice quiver with emotion and tried to steel herself, wiping her eyes irritably.

'I wish Mrs. Denali had asked someone else to look after you," she said eventually, her voice soft and low. "I wish you would leave me alone."

Edward stared at her, his eyes flashing. "I don't think you mean that, Bella Swan, but if you really want me to, I'll leave you alone," he said bitterly. "You're wrong about your parents, though, and you're wrong about Grange Hall and Mrs. Denali. I'm going to get out of here somehow and you have to come with me. It's not safe here."

Bella looked at him with contempt.

"Of course it's safe here, safer than trying to escape to the outside when they'd only send the catchers after you and put you in a hard labour camp. Your problem is that you think you're better than other surpluses, think the rules don't apply to you. Well they do, and I'm sick of you talking about my parents and stuff. I don't want to hear anymore. And don't expect me to keep watching you either."

Edward shrugged, but his dark eyes belied his casual stance, staring deep into Bella's and making her shift uncomfortably.

"Fine, suit yourself," he said evenly, "Stay here and turn yourself into a good little house servant. Let Mrs. Denali and the rest of them tell you what to do, what to think –or rather, what not to think. See if I care.

I mean, I got caught just so that I could find you, so that I could bring you back to your parents, but don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll be very happy, Bella Swan."

"Don't call me that!" Bella cried, putting her hands to her ears. "And I didn't ask you to come . . ."

"No you didn't, you're right" Edward said slowly.

He looked away and folded his arms defensively. "You know, tracking you down to Grange Hall wasn't easy. And I knew that being here was going to be hard. But I never thought that _you'd_ be difficult. I thought you'd be pleased I came,"

"I am please you came" Bella said quickly, surprising herself with her words. "But you're wrong about everything. You're better off here, really you are. Can't you be my friend and stay?"

Edward shook his head and Bella rolled her eyes in irritation.

"Look, I could get in trouble just talking to you about this, "she said. "The fact is that Mrs. Denali seems to quite like you now. You could be okay here, instead of having to spend your life in hiding."

"I can assure you that Mrs. Denali doesn't like me," Edward said sarcastically. "She doesn't like any of us. Anyone who can beat someone the way she beat me isn't capable of that emotion."

Bella looked down at the floor. She's suspected as much.

"You don't get beaten if you don't break the rules," she said quietly.

"You really have fallen for all her crap, haven't you?" Edward said with a sigh.

"You believe every single word that woman feeds you. Well I don't. Bella, we've got as much right to be on this planet as the Mrs. Denali's of this world do. More right. They're the ones who have outstayed their welcome by living forever and blaming us for it."

Edward's eyes were flashing and Bella looked at him with terror. What he'd just said was blasphemous. He'd be flogged if anyone heard him. She would too, just for listening.

"Look," he said with a sigh, "I'm getting out of here, and if you're not coming with me then that's your business. But I can't wait forever. You have to decide Bella Swan. You have to decide whether you're going to live a life of slavery or not."

Bella stared at Edward, then stood up, only to discover that her legs were shaking. How dare Edward tell her she was a slave?

Putting a hand on the table to steady herself, she took a deep breath and forced herself to look him directly in the eye.

"I've already decided," she hissed. "You're the one that believes crap, Edward. I'm a prefect. A _Prefect_! In six months I'm going to be a valuable asset. You can ruin your own life, but you're not ruining mine. Try and escape if you want, but I don't want anything to do with it. I don't want anything to do with you either."

And with that she turned and left, leaving Edward alone in the vast hall that was central feeding. She walked without thinking out of the door, across the covered courtyard that separated the feeding hall from the main building, then walked more quickly towards the stairs.

It was only when she got to floor 2 that she realized where she was going, and was soon running towards female bathroom 2.

Once there, having made sure it was empty and safely shut the door behind her, she finally allowed her tears to flow freely as she collapsed on the floor in a heap of sobs.

"I am not Bella Swan" she said to herself as she wept. "I am not Bella Swan. I am surplus Bella. I am. I know I am. Please let things get back to normal. Please let everything be okay again. . ."

_Ta-da! _

_I did some of my snooping around to see what i could find out about the Breaking Dawn film...and found out that Summit entertainment are considering presenting the films in 3-D! I for one don't like the look of this...what do you guys think?_

_So what do you guys think? Leave a review after the beep . . . . . . .BEEP! _


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer; I don't own anything you notice, all that belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.**

Chapter six

_3 March, 2140_

_Edward says I'm a slave and that I should stand up for myself. He makes me so angry. I'm not a slave. I'm a good surplus. It's not like a chose to be one –it's just the way things are and I don't see why Edward has to make me feel bad about it._

_He says he's my friend and then he gets me upset and I feel like I can't breathe properly because he talks about the outside and he gets me imagining what it would be like, when it doesn't matter because I'm a surplus so outside doesn't belong to me._

_If he was really my friend, why would he say stupid, horrible things like that?_

_Edward isn't afraid like the rest of us. And that makes him dangerous. It feels dangerous being with him because I never know what he's going to say next, and whatever he does say, he'd never be able to say in front of Mrs. Denali. _

_But sometimes he says nice things, or he looks at me and it doesn't feel dangerous, it feels exciting, even though they're probably the same thing. And I worry that it's because underneath it all I'm not really valuable asset material, I'm just a surplus, and however much I work and try my best I will always end up 'letting myself down' by liking things I shouldn't and doing things I shouldn't. _

_I shouldn't be writing right now._

_I shouldn't have a journal._

_Maybe I'm really no better than Edward. Maybe it's me that's dangerous, after all…_

The sexes at Grange Hall were segregated in a number of ways: firstly by the location of their dormitories, which were on separate floors; secondly by the timetable of their training sessions –at least half of the training sessions each day were single sex, focusing exclusively on the skills and expertise each would be expected to bring their future employer; and thirdly by the ways in which they approached their confinement, the methods they employed to make their lives seem more bearable, their prospects less bleak.

The girls, with only one or two exceptions, got through the day by competing with one another over who was going to be the most valuable, who could prove their genuine worth to Mother Nature. And whilst, on the surface, there appeared to be some camaraderie between the girls; whilst they would sometimes, in stolen moments, confide in each other and whisper forbidden thoughts about the outside, about what it must have been like to be born Legal, to have life stretched out ahead of you like a beautiful, soft carpet full of pleasure and expectations, in reality there was little friendship.

Pity, sympathy and empathy were qualities that female surpluses could not afford the luxury of feeling; pity or sympathy extended to another could only highlight their own failings, their own destiny. And so, instead, the girls lived side by side, never letting their guard down fully, nearly always suppressing their instincts and questions, and constantly watching each other for the smallest transgression even in stolen moments of leisure and recreation.

In the hour or so before bedtime when, on the rare occasion that all the chores had been completed satisfactorily for the day and the girls in Bella's dorm had some free time, they would always play the same game.

It was called 'Legal Surplus', and would see one of the girls anointed 'Legal' for the duration of the game, and one other as her surplus. The 'Legal' girl could ask her surplus to do anything from cleaning the floor with her tongue to eating faeces. The more creative and inventive the Legal could be in finding ways to humiliate her surplus, the more the girls would applaud and laugh until Lights Out were announced and the game's surplus would be allowed to escape her tormentor.

The boys, on the other hand, did not let their minds stray too far into the future, did not allow their thoughts to rest too long on the short life of servitude that lay before them. Instead, they coped with their frustration and restlessness by engaging in more physical activity.

The rules of engagement in their game were similar to those employed in the female surpluses' game –one against one, with the other surpluses acting as the audience, but in the boy's version, the victim and bully were not chosen according to strict rotation; rather the same boy or boys would be picked on and attacked by the same bullies, the others watching, vicariously feeling the pleasure of each kick, imagining the powerful feeling that would come from mastering another completely.

The game would continue until the watching surpluses could no longer control themselves and would throw themselves into the fray, kicking and punching the victim or anyone they considered to be weaker than them. Doing this allowed them, for a short time at least, to feel invincible, to feel as though they were no longer surplus; the blood pumping around their body made everything outside the dormitory meaningless –their past, their present, their future.

Mrs. Denali and the instructors knew of both these games and intervened rarely. In fact, Bella had seen Mrs. Denali smile and say that in these games the surpluses were doing her job for her; the girls were learning themselves to submit fully to their Legal masters, whilst the boys were sorting out the weak from the strong, and taking their aggression out on each other, containing it so that no Legal ever need feel the brunt of it. Surplus boys were often employed in groups of two or three, with a weaker boy attached to two stronger ones, enabling this dynamic to continue until the boys were men and they were no longer gripped with the need to fight, to dominate.

Hormone trials had been conducted years before to try and quell the surplus boy's appetite and need for aggression, but they were found to diminish their strength and brute force, so were soon abandoned.

Bella no longer engaged in the games in her dormitory. She was, after all a prefect now and was too old for such things. But the truth was that being a prefect was not the reason for hr looking the other way when one or other surplus girl was forced to experience new, fresh horrors, the result of feverish planning by whoever was playing the game's 'Legal'. The real reason that Bella could not bear to watch the tormentor or tormented was that recently, she had began to lose her appetite for the infliction of pain; she no longer felt comforted by watching another being bullied, or indeed torturing another surplus herself; she no longer enjoyed the brutality and desensitization that went with it.

The shrieks of delight as the chosen surplus was subjected to some new, horrible punishment used to make her feel elated and relieved, because whatever horrors lay ahead in her life could never be this bad, could never devastate her as the 'Legal' was devastating her slave for the night. But recently, Bella had begun to realize that the horror she faced in the life that lay before her was not of beatings, or humiliation. It was of the horror of what they all were, what she was.

Surplus. Unwanted. A burden. Better off dead. And no amount of pain, no amount of desensitization could take that away, or even make it matter slightly less.

That evening, when Bella had returned from female bathroom 2, she found the game in full flow, with Jessica the surplus and Tanya her master. The sight immediately made her stomach clench with apprehension. Tanya was a year younger than Bella, and a year older than Jessica. She had been at Grange Hall almost since birth and was a tall, large-boned girl with strawberry blond hair and dark eyes. She towered above Jessica, who was so slight she looked as though a gust of wind might blow her over at any minute.

Jessica's hair was a pale orange color, the same color as the freckles which covered her fragile, almost bluish skin. This, combined with her fragile frame and watery blue eyes, made her an easy target for bullying and insults; her steely determination and refusal to acquiesce to her bullies' demands had only made humiliating her more attractive to her attackers. Until a couple of years before, when Bella had reluctantly begun to protect her, promoted mainly by the fact that Jessica had begun to follow her around, making her fights Bella's fights, Jessica had been target practice for every bully at Grange Hall.

As Bella walked past, she averted her eyes, refusing the various invitations to watch, and trying to convince herself that the game was nothing to do with her. But as she reached her bed, she could hear the cries and taunts emanating from the other side of the dormitory getting louder, and reluctantly she turned to look.

Then she frowned.

To her surprise, Jessica was not face down on the floor with Tanya's foot on the back of her head, or completing some humiliating task. Rather, she was simply standing beside Tanya's bed, tears streaming down her face and her body trembling as she shook her head.

Bella looked away, but the noise from the watching surpluses was becoming deafening, and eventually Bella turned round again. Jessica was still standing in front of Tanya, now with red marks on her cheeks, no doubt the result of a slap or two. Other than that, she could see no other physical damage.

Biting her lip, she walked back towards the cluster of surpluses. Tanya was towering over Jessica, her eyes boring into hers, saying over and over again in a low voice, "Say it. Say it. Say it." Jessica meanwhile, was shaking her head, her hands drawn into little fists.

Bella watched them for few seconds. "It's time for bed," she said "You can stop the game now."

A few of the surpluses turned to her with strange looks in their eyes, and Tanya, without moving her eyes from Jessica's, shook her head.

"She hasn't done what I told her to do yet. The game won't stop till she's done it."

Bella's eyes shifted to Jessica. "Come on Jessica" she urged, "Just do what she said, then we'll all go to bed."

"No, I won't" Jessica's voice was soft, and low, but it was also determined, and Bella felt her stomach sink. You weren't allowed to say no. That was the rule. You had to do what the Legal told you; that was the whole point. No one ever said no. why did Jessica have to be so defiant?

"Jessica, it's a game. You have to do what she says," Bella said, feeling the electricity around her as the other surpluses stared in excitement at the scene unfolding before them.

"I won't," Jessica said simply. "I won't."

Bella looked at Tanya. "What did you ask her to do?" she asked. "Because if it involved leaving the dormitory or saying something to House Matron then you know it's not allowed."

Tanya smiled icily. "I just asked her to say something, that's all. And she won't do it. So until she does, the game isn't ending. Okay?"

"Say something?" Bella asked uncertainly. "Is that all?"

She looked at Jessica. "Jessica, come on. Just say it, whatever it is."

Jessica shook her head. Her face was white with fury or fear –Bella couldn't tell which.

'What did you ask her to say?" she asked Tanya

"I told her to tell me that she hates her parents. That her parents are criminal scum and that they deserve to die," Tanya said triumphantly.

"I'll never say it" Jessica said softly. "I don't care what you do to me, I won't say it."

"You have to say it," Tanya said angrily. "I am your master. You have to do as I tell you; otherwise we are all going to beat you. And if you still won't say it, then I'll tell House Matron that you don't know your place."

As Bella watched Jessica standing bravely before Tanya, her little back stiff and her eyelashes heavy with salty tears, she found herself thinking of Edward, hearing his words echoing around her head: "You're parents love you, Bella Swan. They love you."

Then she braced herself. "Jessica you have to say it," she said flatly. "It's true after all."  
Jessica's eyes narrowed and she shook her head fiercely. "It isn't true" she said in a low voice. "And I won't say it."

Tanya was getting red in the face, her color now far surpassing her hair. "She will bend to my authority," she said hotly. "I am her master now. She will do whatever I tell her to."

"You're not my master," Jessica said suddenly. "No one is my master. I'm not a surplus. My parents love me and I'm Legal, and I hate you. I hate you all."

Tanya stared at her, her mouth wide open, and then she drew her hand back and slapped her hard across the face again. Then she pushed Jessica to the floor and started to kick her.

"You do not talk to your master like that," she screamed "You will learn some respect. You are a surplus, Jessica. Do you hear? You are scum. You don't deserve to breathe the same air as me. You don't deserve to be in the same room as me. You're scum Jessica, you're worthless."

Tanya looked around, her eyes flashing. "You're all worthless," she said angrily. "You're all scum. All of you."

Irina, a short, stocky pending who slept in the next but one bed to Bella, muscled forward at this point.

"If anyone's scum you are," she said, folding her arms and looking at Tanya menacingly. "You can't even cook properly. You're scum and useless and no one's ever going to want to employ you and you're going to end up being put down because there won't be anything else to do with you."

"I can cook," Tanya said, drawing herself up to her full height and taking her eyes off Jessica to glare at Irina. "And I can sew better than you too. No one will want to employ _you_ because you're too ugly to have in a nice house. No one would want to look at you all day, even if you learn Decorum and make yourself invisible. You'll still be ugly."

Bella glanced to the floor and watched Jessica inch away from Tanya, wincing slightly from the pain, but her face still defiant. Irina wasn't inching anywhere though. Instead she hurled herself at Tanya, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to the ground.

"Useless . . . little . . . surplus," she spat as she slapped Tanya around the face. Tanya wriggled on to her side and managed to aim a kick at Irina who fell away, crying out with pain. But before Tanya could get up, Jessica appeared from nowhere, hurling herself onto Tanya and punching her with her little fists.

"Stop," screamed Bella fiercely. "The game is over. It's time for bed."

"I don't want to go bed," Irina said looking Bella directly in the eye. "I don't feel like it."

Bella's eyes narrowed. "Surplus Irina, know your place," she growled. "I say it's time for bed, and you will do as I say."

Tanya pushed Jessica off her and stood up. "And what if we don't?" she asked, her voice challenging. "Then what?"

"Then you'll be punished," Bella said fiercely. 'I am a prefect."

"I am a prefect," Tanya mocked, and a couple of the other surpluses laughed. "Well prefects have to learn their place too," she said, pulling herself up to her full height again and looking to the other surpluses for moral support.

"Maybe it's time you played the game, Bella. Maybe it's time you stopped being so high and mighty and remembered who you really are. What you are. Just a surplus, like the rest of us."

Bella stared at her. 'I know I'm a surplus," she said angrily. "I know my place. I think it's you who doesn't."

"Really? Well, maybe you're right. Maybe _my_ place isn't in this dormitory," Tanya said her eyes flashing. "Maybe _my_ place is in another dormitory. Or on the corridor. Or on the outside. Maybe _my_ place is somewhere completely different. What then?"

She stared at Bella for a moment, then tossed her head back and charged towards the door, opening it and motioning for the other surpluses to join her.

Irina followed cautiously, and Bella pulled Jessica back.

"You stay here,' she ordered. "You stay right here."

Slowly, she marched out into the corridor to survey the scene. Tanya and Irina were running down the corridor, knocking on dormitory doors and screaming 'know your place surpluses, know your place."

One or two doors opened and nervous looking female surpluses poke their heads out; they were soon dragged out into the corridor by either Tanya or Irina.

Bella slammed her own dormitory door to get their attention.

"You will get back inside," she shouted "and you will go back to bed. Now."

Tanya looked at her and laughed. "Or what, surplus Bella? Or you'll tell us off? Run to House Matron?"

"Or I'll beat you myself," Bella said fiercely "You are a surplus Tanya, and you are to behave as a surplus, to follow the rules and do as you are told. You have no right to exist, surplus Tanya, and if you can't behave properly then . . ."

"Then what?" Tanya asked. Her eyes were wild and she looked dizzy with exhilaration.

"Then you'll be sent to solitary"

Silence fell along the corridor and Tanya's face went white as Mrs. Denali suddenly appeared.

'And beaten," Mrs. Denali continued, walking towards Bella, her face impenetrable.

"Bella, I heard you offer to beat Tanya yourself. I would be most obliged."

Bella looked at Mrs. Denali uncertainly. She had never been asked to beat a surplus before. Surpluses weren't supposed to raise their fist to anyone, not outside the strictures of the game.

"Now" Mrs. Denali said forcefully. "So that everyone can see what happens to a surplus who thinks they are above the rules, who thinks that they can do as they please and insult Mother Nature and humankind's generosity."

Bella moved hesitantly towards Tanya, who looked at her defiantly.

'Hit her," ordered Mrs. Denali, who was now walking towards her. "Make her know her sins. Help her to learn from her mistakes and to understand what being a surplus means. Make her see that she is unwanted, a burden; that every step she takes along these corridors are steps that she has stolen. Make her see that she is worthless, that if she ides no one will care, that in fact the world will be better off without her not trespassing on it. Make her understand all that Bella."

Mrs. Denali's voice was low and menacing, and Bella found herself trembling. Tanya had to understand she told herself. Tanya had to learn, for her own sake. For all their sakes.

Slowly, she drew her hand back to swipe Tanya across the face. Tanya looked at her for a moment, then her eyes flicked up to Mrs. Denali and back again. And then she smiled at Bella, a mocking smile full of hatred and contempt.

Bella held her gaze for a second or so, and pulled her hand back again. Frustration and anger were bubbling up inside of her and she wanted to vent her rage, but somehow she couldn't do it. However much she wanted Tanya to learn her place, she couldn't hit her. And the realization frightened her particularly as another smile began to wend its way across Tanya's face.

"Hit me then," Tanya hissed. "Go on. Or aren't you as tough as you think, surplus Bella."

Bella stared at her, but still she found herself paralyzed.

"Thank you Bella," Mrs. Denali said eventually. "Surplus Tanya will spend the rest of the night in solitary, as will surplus Irina, after spending some time in my office. The rest of you will forfeit breakfast tomorrow and will have additional chores every evening this week."

Immediately, the look of insolence of Tanya's face was replaced by fear, and Bella watched silently as she and Irina were taken away and the corridor quickly emptied.

"Go and brush your teeth, and then I want lights out," she said on autopilot, as she walked back into her dormitory, trying to work out why she felt so uncomfortable, trying to work out why she hadn't been able to punish Tanya.

"Surpluses need good teeth" she continued, echoing the words she'd heard Mrs. Denali say so many times. "No one's going to pay for dental treatment for a surplus."

Then, slowly, she walked over and checked on Jessica, who was sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Go and brush your teeth, surplus Jessica" Bella said flatly. Then she looked around at the onlookers.

"No more games until I say so. Does everyone understand? We are all surpluses here, and maybe we need to remember that for a few weeks."

The surpluses shrugged and nodded and filed out to the bathrooms to brush their teeth. Bella followed, and soon found Jessica standing next to her basin.

"You know, Bella, I'm not a surplus," Jessica said whispered almost silently, wincing in pain of moving her cheeks.

"And one day they'll realize and I'll be free. And when I am, I'm going to have surplus Tanya as my housekeeper and I'm going to punish her every day. And I'll have you as my housekeeper too, Bella, but I won't punish you at all . . . unless you deserve it, that is.

And with her eyes fixed straight ahead, Jessica picked up her toothbrush and began to clean her teeth.

_Hey guys, so there's another chapter._

_So I decided to stick with what Gemma Malley put in the book and I gave Jessica pale orange hair and freckles, I think it suits her character better then the curly brown hair in Twilight. =)_

_Let me know what you think of this chapter and leave a review *insert pouty face and watery eyes here*_

_Thanks xoxo_


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you notice, all that belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.**

Chapter seven

The next day Tanya and Irina arrived back from solitary in time for morning training. Neither acknowledged their fellow surpluses. Telltale red welts were evident on their cheeks and hands, and Bella suspected that more were hidden by their overalls. Under their eyes they both bore the signs of a sleepless night –dark shadows and drooping eyelids.

Bella, who was feeling tired herself, not to mention hungry from the lack of breakfast, also couldn't help noticing that Edward was missing from class. Not that she cared. In many ways, she was relieved –he had made her angry with his taunts about her parents, angrier than she'd realized. She wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he too, had spent the night in solitary for some misdemeanor. In fact, she'd half expected him to arrive with Irina and Tanya.

But he didn't turn up. There was no knock at the door; no last minute interruptions.

Once everyone had noted Tanya and Irina's appearance, the story of last night's games having spread swiftly around the class, the surpluses soon started whispering about Edward's absence instead, nudging each other and looking meaningfully at the empty desk next to Bella where Edward normally sat. She, though, was far too proud to get involved in their gossiping.

Instead, she stared ahead purposefully; trying to ignore her rumbling stomach and listening intently to Mrs. Dawson explain how surpluses had to master invisibility –the ability to be on hand constantly and yet never have their presence felt. In truth she decided, it was probably a good thing Edward wasn't there. Mrs. Dawson had a firm expression on her face, and Edward never failed to perform badly in this class, never left without some sort of punishment or other being imposed on him.

Where Mrs. Denali was small in height and structure, Mrs. Dawson was large –about a hundred and eighty eight centimeters and with rolls of flesh that wobbled as she moved. Her hair, although pinned up in a chignon like Mrs. Denali's, somehow managed to break free regularly, meaning that she constantly had to sweep it back off her face.

Bella liked Mrs. Dawson and was determined to do well in her class. Decorum was very important for surpluses. Mrs. Denali said that Legals considered Decorum one of the most attractive skills in a surplus male or female.

"It should be as if you don't exist at all," Mrs. Dawson said, her voice firm. "You should blend into the background as you go about your chores, and yet, when you are needed you should be there immediately. It is a great skill and one that you will learn with practice . . ."

Bella nodded seriously, and imagined herself in Mrs. Weber's house, appearing out of the shadows when she was needed, blending into the background when she wasn't. The perfect surplus. A true valuable asset.

"And how might you ensure that your presence is not felt? Tanya?"

Bella allowed herself a quick glance at Tanya, who was staring resolutely ahead.

"Keep our eyes lowered," Tanya said, her voice quivering slightly, last night's defiance all but gone from her voice.

"And?" Mrs. Dawson asked.

"No talk, or offer our opinions," Tanya continued quietly. "Not think or read or do anything that might distract us."

"That's right." Mrs. Dawson said looking at Tanya thoughtfully. "What about you Irina? Do you have anything to add?"

Irina, who was sporting a black eye and a defeated expression, bit her lip.

"To anticipate the requirements of our Legals," she said hesitantly. "To always be thinking about what they might need or want . . ."

Mrs. Dawson nodded. "That's right Irina. To always be thinking about what Legals might want. And what about the things you might want, Irina? What about those?"

Irina looked down at the floor. "We're surplus," she said flatly. 'We don't want anything. We don't have the right to desires. We are here to serve."

'Good." Mrs. Dawson said matter-of-factly. "Let's see it in practice shall we? One after the other, I want you to cross the room in front of me. Silently, so I can't hear a thing. Bella you start."

The surpluses gathered at the side of the room and Bella glided across the floor as quietly as she could, followed by Jessica and Tanya, all of them prompting nods of approval from Mrs. Dawson.

Next surplus Tyler made his way across, picking his feet up and frowning in concentration. Tyler was a tall boy, with curly hair, large feet and an almost skeletal frame. He had arrived at Grange Hall in the same year as Bella, but he had more in common with surpluses who had arrived when they were much older –he was quiet, often distracted, and wasn't good at anything as far as Bella could tell.

"I hear you," Mrs. Dawson snapped. "Go back and do it again."

Reddening slightly, Tyler went back to the side of the training room and started again, staring intently at his large feet as he tried to stop them from making a sound.

"No!" Mrs. Dawson shouted when he had taken just two steps. "You clumsy boy. Do it again."

Tyler retreated and he wiped beads of sweat off his forehead, this time forcing himself onto his tiptoes and looking at Mrs. Dawson. Halfway across, Mrs. Dawson opened her mouth as if to speak. Tyler's eyes opened wide in anticipation of another criticism, and as they did so, he lost his balance, grabbing onto a desk as he fell to the ground, and pulling it down with him.

Mrs. Dawson stood up.

"Up!" she shrieked. "Stand up. You useless surplus."

Tyler pulled himself to his feet, apologizing profusely, but Mrs. Dawson was deaf to his words. She pulled his hands in front of him, placed them on a chair and then picked up the cane she always carried with her, smashing it down on Tyler's fingers.

"Clumsy!" she shouted. "You will learn not to be clumsy. Now, do it again."

His face white with pain and shock, Tyler made his way back to where his fellow surpluses were waiting their turn. One of his fingers was bent the wrong way and he seemed disorientated as he started to cross the room for the third time. He made it only a quarter of the way across the room before stumbling again, his entire body clenching with fear as he awaited his inevitable punishment.

Mrs. Dawson looked at him with disgust. "You will go without supper tonight and you will practice walking across this room all night," she said "And if before breakfast tomorrow you cannot do it silently, then you will miss all meals tomorrow and practice again the following night, until you can do it properly. Do you understand?"

Tyler nodded and staggered over to where Bella, Jessica and Tanya were standing. He stared at the floor nursing his bleeding hand, as surplus James' name was called.

"She only picked on you because surplus Edward isn't here" hissed James at Tyler when he's successfully crossed the room a few moments later. Then he looked meaningfully at Bella. "And Edward's going to pay for it too."

Bella stared at him, and then looked away. She didn't care. All she'd ever wanted to be was a valuable asset. And she was determined that she wouldn't care about anything else. If her lip was quivering slightly, if she felt suddenly gripped by fear and uncertainty and a feeling like she was falling, then she was fairly sure it would pass. Things generally did at Grange Hall.

Mrs. Denali saw to that.

For the rest of the day, Bella applied herself to her training sessions and chores in a way that would make Mrs. Denali proud. She polished the floor of her dormitory, and then polished the corridor outside just for good measure.

She was at central feeding early to prepare that evening's feed, and didn't even roll her eyes when she was given the meat to prepare. As a prefect, meat preparation was a job well within her rights to delegate to a younger surplus. It was a lowly job, made harder by the fact that the kitchen knives were so blunt they barely scratched the service of the rubbery, gristle-filled flesh they were given once a week, scraps from the local maximarket where Legals brought their food. Instead, she performed a thorough job of boning and chopping, and all the while, she was practicing being invisible, keeping her eyes lowered and her feet light. And as she worked, she focused her mind on the task at hand by repeating Evening Vows to herself:

_I vow to serve, to pay my dues_

_And train myself for Legal use._

_I vow to bear the surplus shame_

_And repay Nature for the same_

_I vow to listen, not to speak_

_To steel myself when I am weak._

_I vow to work and most of all_

_To serve the State if it should call._

Evening vows were said every night before bedtime. They reminded surpluses of their place in life, Mrs. Denali said. Not that surpluses could have any purpose, not really; that would suggest they had a reason for existing, which they didn't. But it gave them a sense of what they were to do with their lives, of how they were to pay Mother Nature and the State back for looking after them, when they really should have been tossed back where they came from.

Bella could never really understand how that would work; where would they be tossed back to? But she didn't ask, just in case Mrs. Denali decided to show her.

She frowned, and stood up to put the prepared meat in the large vat for cooking.

But as she did so, she felt someone coming up behind her, and turned suddenly, to see the face of surplus James just a foot away from hers. Surplus James was also a prefect, but where Bella exercised her authority through firm words, a belief in rules and a much-talked about closeness with Mrs. Denali. James' authority stemmed primarily from his size. At seventeen, he wasn't particularly tall for his age, but what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk, partly because of a natural muscularity, and partly because he regularly commandeered the food from other boys at his table, who would readily give up their bread or broth in spite of their hollow, aching stomachs because the alternative was far worse than hunger. James could torment a boy until he no longer had bladder control; could dole out such horrific punishments that solitary seemed like a welcome respite.

Today, his face was swollen, something that Bella had registered in Decorum, but hadn't dwelt on. Surpluses regularly sported bruises and cuts –the result of punishments, fights and games. No one asked why a cheek was red or a hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage, and unless the injury was very serious, no treatment was ever sought –or given.

Only on very rare occasions was a doctor sent for. It had only happened twice during Bella's stay at Grange Hall, once for a boy who had broken his leg in several places during a game, and once when a new surplus had a fever. Illness was feared by surpluses.

Without longevity drugs, they were vulnerable to any number of viruses and ailments, but few admitted their discomfort until it was absolutely necessary; Mrs. Denali had made it clear many times that sickness was a sign of weakness. Illness suggested that Mother Nature didn't think you'd ever be useful and wanted to 'weed you out early'.

That's what happened to the new surplus. She had something called a fever and she died, in the end. Bad genes, Mrs. Denali had told Bella a few weeks later. It was 'for the best'.

Bella looked briefly at James. His lip was bloody and his left eye barely visible, hidden behind the cheek that had inflated protectively around it. It was odd, Bella though to herself, slightly nervously, how James looked even more threatening when he was injured.

"So now I know who to blame if the meat is ruined," James said sneeringly as Bella narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you want surplus James? You shouldn't be in the kitchen." She said, trying her hardest not to shrink back at the mere sight of him. She turned back to the vat and continued to scrape the meat into it, but she could feel his eyes boring into her neck and it made her uncomfortable.

"Where is your little friend?" he said in a low voice. "Where is he?"

Bella frowned and looked back at him uncertainly.

"I don't know what you mean," she said evenly. "I don't have friends James."

James moved closer so that Bella could feel his breath on her neck. "Surplus Edward," he said coldly. "Where is he?"

Bella stopped what she was doing. James was in Edward's dormitory. If he didn't know where Edward was, then who did?

Cautiously, she turned round. "Why do you want to know where Edward is?" she asked.

James smirked. "I knew it. So, he went running to you, did he?" He shook his head slowly. "You know that surplus is trouble don't you, Bella? You know that he deserves everything he gets. And you do too."

Bella gripped the knife she was holding.

"I don't know what you mean," she said flatly, forcing herself to look James in the eye, to show that he didn't intimidate her. He was no threat, she reminded herself. She was a prefect. She wasn't a weak surplus ripe for bullying.

James shrugged. "If he went running to you, it won't make any difference. He had it coming. Needs to learn some respect. Mrs. Denali understands, you know Bella. She knows that Edward only got what he deserved, so there's no point telling her any different. You think you're her favorite surplus, but you're not. She pities you."

Bella felt her stomach clench in anger. "No one pities me, surplus James." She growled.

James smirked, and leant down closer to Bella.

"Everyone pities you, surplus Bella. Edward especially," he said, his voice menacing. 'Why do you think he tries to protect you? Because he thinks' that you're pathetic that's why."

Bella stared at him, her eyes wide. "Protect me?" She asked uncertainly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about this," James growled, opening his overalls to reveal a large greeny-black bruise stretching across his chest.

"He's a maniac. And all because I said the most useful thing they could do with you is to put you out of your surplus misery. I meant it too."

Bella could feel James' breath on her forehead and she jutted out her chin to show that she wasn't scared.

"Wherever he is," James continued menacingly, "I'll find him. I kicked his head in because he deserved it and I'll do it again too. I'll kill him if I have to. Mrs. Denali won't care. And I'll be sure to make it look like an accident, don't you worry about that."

Before Bella could say anything in response, James walked off, just missing a Domestic who had come to check on Bella's work.

"Hurry up," she shouted angrily, staring at the still raw contents of the vat. "Get on with it, you lazy surplus."

"Yes," Bella answered her voice level In spite of her racing mind. "I'm sorry, I'll be quicker now."

She added boiling water along with a packet of powdered stock to add bulk to the stew, but as she stirred the mixture, all thoughts of Evening Vows left her head. Instead, all she could think about was Edward. About the trouble he was in. about the conviction, deep down inside of her, that she had to tell him, had to warn him.

She knew it was out of the question; knew that it would mean breaking every rule that she had so vigorously upheld for most of her life. But she knew that she didn't have a choice. Edward was her friend, however much as she tried to deny it. And Bella, who had never before allowed her heart's voice to be heard, was now unwillingly and unavoidably in its thrall.

At 1 a.m., Bella lay awake in her bed, contemplating what she was about to do, working out how long it would take her to get to solitary to see if Edward was there, how likely it was that she would disturb another surplus in her dorm, or worse, get caught once outside.

There were no longer cameras along the corridors of Grange Hall –those that had been installed originally had proved too expensive to run and there was no money for replacements. But Mrs. Denali didn't need cameras to keep the surpluses at Grange Hall In their beds at night; she preferred to rely on good, old-fashioned fear, preferred to stalk the corridors herself when she couldn't sleep, which was often.

If Bella was caught out of bed, she'd be beaten; if she was found making her way to solitary, she couldn't conceive of a punishment severe enough.

Gingerly, she sat up and looked around the small, cramped dormitory that had once served as the office to the Director of Operations, Department of Rescue and Benefits. There were ten beds in all, with little space between, each with a steel frame and thin mattress. On nine of them, female pending surpluses slept, their hair splayed over their pillows and hands curled into fists, a situation replicated all the way down the hall in all the other dormitories containing all the other surpluses.

Trying not to think too much about what she was doing, Bella eased herself out of bed and winced as her feet touched the cold, hard floor.

Softly, recalling her Decorum practice, she slipped silently out of the dormitory and down the corridor. Grange Hall was strangely silent –even the smalls seemed to be asleep. A surge of fear gripped her. She felt so exposed, so utterly vulnerable, alone in the darkness, her toes clenching against the coldness of the floor. With five hundred surpluses and thirty staff the surpluses were rarely alone at Grange Hall; to be so now felt both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Slipping through doors, down the stairs and then along the cold, damp and dark corridor that ran along the basement of the building, Bella finally found herself approaching the solitary cells. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"This better be worth it, surplus Edward." She muttered to herself as she turned the corner.

But then she stopped abruptly and slipped back behind the wall. There outside one of the three solitary confinement cells, was Mrs. Denali, with two men, one of whom was carrying Edward through the large, metal door.

Bella frowned, trying to work out what was happening. Was he ill? Where were they bringing him from?

Bella felt her heart pound wildly in her chest, and held her breath, peeking round the corner to see what was happening. She was fairly sure no one had seen her, but if Mrs. Denali and the two men were planning to go back upstairs via staircase 3, she would be trapped.

There would be nowhere she could hide –the stark grey corridor had nothing but the locked doors to store cupboards, and there was no way she could outrun them either; they were just a few metres away.

But to her immense relief, once the man deposited Edward and locked the door of his cell, they turned and followed Mrs. Denali the other way along the corridor.

"You'll get your money upstairs," she heard Mrs. Denali say as they walked away. "And if you say one word about this to anyone, the authorities will find out about your little black market ventures, do you understand?"

Bella heard the men grunt in reply, and waited until their footsteps could no longer be heard, then stealthily slipped round the corner and towards the door of Edward's cell.

"Edward," she whispered. "Edward, can you hear me? Its Bella . . ."

_Dun-dun-dun…_

_What happens next? Review to find out if Edward's alive or not :/ _

_Oh, by the way guys i've updated my story 'The Hell That Is My Life' (finally :D), I would really appreciate you guys checking it out and letting me know what you think :D_

_xoxo_


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you notice, all that belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer.**

**Chapter Eight**

It took five minutes of whispering and lightly knocking on the cell door before Bella got any response from Edward, and even then it wasn't much more than a moan.

"Edward? Is that you?"

There was a pause, then she heard a shuffle. It sounded like Edward was coming closer to the door. She felt scared and relieved and embarrassed all at the same time.

"Bella?"

His voice sounded muffled and sleepy.

"Yes. I . . . I just wanted to check that you were okay. I didn't know where you were, and then surplus James . . . I just wanted to check that you were here,"

Bella said awkwardly. She shivered violently and wished she'd thought to bring her blanket with her now.

"Bella. You're here."

Bella frowned. "Are you okay?" she whispered. "You sound funny. Did James hurt you really badly?"

She heard Edward yawn.

"My head," she heard him say. "I feel . . . They gave me something. An injection, I feel woozy. How long have I been here?"

Bella frowned, "You didn't have an injection, Edward. Surplus James kicked your head. He told me. But why are you in solitary? Did Mrs. Denali find you?"

"I don't know," Edward said vaguely. "I remember the fight. But Mrs. Denali got me out of bed later and brought me down here. At night-time. They gave me an injection . . . What time is it?"

Bella looked at her wrist.

"Half past one," she said her heart sinking as she realized just how little sleep she was going to get tonight.

"Look, I can't stay," she said quickly. "I just had to warn you about James. He wants to kill you, he said. I didn't know where you were, so-"

"I can handle James," Edward said, his voice beginning to sound a bit more normal. "But Bella, don't go. Not yet. Stay and talk to me."

Bella felt her face flush slightly and bit her lip self-consciously. The floor was freezing and damp under her bare feet, but still she sat down.

"You can't defend me, you know," she said awkwardly. "You can't let surplus James bully you. I can take care of myself. You're in enough trouble as it is."

"I don't care about trouble." Edward said flatly.

"You can't say that," Bella said agitatedly. "When you get out . . . you have to learn how to behave."

"If I get out." Edward said darkly.

Bella sighed, "Of course you'll get out Edward. You just have to learn your lesson first, that's all."

"And what lesson's that?" Edward asked, his voice irritable. "Don't get born? Don't have an opinion? Don't tell James that he's a bully and an oaf?"

Bella's eyes opened wide. "You said that?"

"Yes, I said that. And he and five others decided to use my head as a football. I'm assuming that's why I'm down here. They must have ran to Mrs. Denali afterwards and said I started it or something."

Bella frowned. "James didn't say anything about telling Mrs. Denali," she said. "He didn't know where you were either."

"What do you mean; he didn't know where I was?"

"None of us did. I mean, I didn't know you were definitely down here. That's why I . . . I mean . . ."

"You came to find me?" his voice was chirpy, almost teasing, and Bella felt herself redden.

"I . . . I just wanted to know where you were," Bella said quickly. She cleared her throat. 'So what happened? When did you get brought down here?"

There was a pause, then Edward started to speak, his voice low.

"I don't know . . . They came for me last night. Quite late, because I was asleep. And Mrs. Denali kept asking me questions and hitting me when I didn't answer. Then I was put here, and they came and got me again –tonight, I suppose. She was asking questions again but then this man got out a needle and I can't remember much until they were carrying me back again."

Bella frowned. That didn't sound like a punishment she's encountered.

In her experience, Mrs. Denali had several ways of _teaching you a lesson_. There were beatings –usually with a belt, sometimes with a ruler and, very occasionally, with her bare fists; there were reduced rations, from hot food to whole meals to blankets, depending on the crime; there was extra work, often late into the night, and there was solitary.

"What questions?" she asked. "Was she asking you why you were bad? Because when she does that, you have to say 'Because I was stupid and I won't do it again'."

"No, they weren't about that. She kept asking me what I knew. Who I was. Why I was here. They wanted to know where I'd been living. I think they wanted me to tell them about your parents. I didn't though. I didn't say a thing. I'm far too clever for you Mrs. Denali."

"She's not my Mrs. Denali," Bella said defensively. "And why would she want to know about my parents?"

Bella said the words awkwardly, finding it difficult to say 'my parents', let alone contemplate the reality of them existing, of them being linked in some way to Edward's encounter with Mrs. Denali.

Bella heard something bang against the wall.

"Yes, your parents."

"What was that noise?" Bella asked. "And why would she care about my parents? Why would she even think you've met them? They're just criminals . . ."

"They're not criminals. Your parents love you, Bella. And they're in the underground movement."

Bella heard the bang again.

"Edward shush, what's that noise?" she said nervously "You'll wake someone up."

"We're two floors below everyone, Bella Swan. I'm not going to wake up anyone. I need to bang my head to wake myself up. They must have drugged me."

Bella shook her head as her logical response kicked in.

"Surpluses aren't allowed to be given drugs," she said immediately in an authoritive tone. "Everyone knows that. It's in the Declaration. And stop calling me Bella Swan."

"That's your name. Bella Swan. I think it's a nice name. And I don't care if surpluses are allowed drugs or not –they definitely injected me with something. There's still a mark on my arm."

Not sure what to say, Bella took one of her feet, which were now feeling like ice blocks, and held it in her hands, trying to encourage the blood to circulate a bit better.

"I've got to go to bed, Edward," she said anxiously. "I just wanted to check you're okay, and you seem to be. Don't do anything stupid. Mrs. Denali will let you out soon, I know she will."

She waited for a reply, but Edward was silent.

"Edward? I said I'm going to bed. I-"

"I don't think she will let me out," Edward said suddenly. "Bella, she said something about terminating me. When we were coming down the corridor. She asked one of the men if he was qualified for termination . . ."

Bella shook her head incredulously. "Don't be stupid Edward,' she said firmly. 'James is the only one making threats. Anyway, you were asleep when you came down the corridor. You just dreamt it, that's all. You'll probably be out tomorrow. And if you're not maybe I'll come down again tomorrow night, to see if you're okay . . ."

She regretted saying that as soon as the words left her mouth, but before she could take them back, Edward said, "Please come."

His voice sounded so sad and vulnerable.

"I'll try my best," she promised reluctantly. "But you mustn't fight with James again. If you get out. I mean . . . when."

"Thank you Bella. You're . . . you're my best friend."

Bella flushed.

"You're my friend too," she said hesitantly, the words feeling strange in her mouth.

"Run away with me then?"

Bella shook her head. "Edward, don't be ridiculous. No one's running away. Why don't you just concentrate on getting out of solitary?"

'Actually I'm better off here," Edward said sulkily. "Solitary's where the escape route is."

He paused, then spoke again, this time his voice more animated.

"Bella, listen to me, I've seen the plans to Grange Hall and there's a secret tunnel. It comes out near the village. I could go now, if I wanted to –I can see the grate it's hidden behind. But you have to come too. You have to escape with me Bella Swan."

Edward's voice was becoming slurred again, but it sounded close and Bella realized that he must be pressing against the door, only centimeters away from her. For a moment, she let herself imagine leaving Grange Hall with Edward, leaving Mrs. Denali and Tanya and James behind and feeling the grass under her feet I some magical, safe place. But even as the thoughts entered her head, she knew that they were pure fantasy, and a dangerous one at that.

Once, on a winter afternoon when Bella was meant to be cleaning the big ovens in the kitchen, Mrs. Denali had caught her peeking behind a blind. It was snowing, and the entire landscape was quickly being enveloped in a wonderful new coat, even the tall, grey walls that separated Grange Hall from the outside, the world beyond it where the Legal people lived.

She could see Domestics and instructors through the gate pulling their coats round them more closely as they made their way home. She looked longingly at them, thinking how wonderful it must be to feel the wind and snow in your face. Surpluses were not allowed outside unless absolutely necessary. Mrs. Denali said that they were easier to manage inside.

Bella had pressed her nose against the cold glass in order to admire the swirling snowflakes, mesmerized as she watched them coming directly towards her and billowing onto the windowsill, joining the others until there was a big mound of delicious, new whiteness covering the grey and grime. She'd been wondering what it would be like to touch something so magical, to hold it in her hands, and feel it melting through her fingers when Mrs. Denali saw her and dragged her away angrily.

"The snow is not falling for you," she'd shouted angrily at her as she pulled Bella to her office by the hair, and then searched for her belt.

"How dare you even look at it! How dare you spend one moment of your life looking at something beautiful when you should be working. Nothing good in this world exists for you," she'd screamed as she gave up the search and used her own hands instead to slap her across the face.

'Know your place Bella. Know your place. You are nothing. You deserve nothing. You will never feel snow in your hands or the sun on your skin. You are not wanted on this earth and the sooner you accept that, the better for all of us."

"I do accept it," Bella had whimpered as she closed her eyes against the pain. "I'm sorry House Matron. I succumbed to temptation. It won't happen again. I do know my place. I have no place. I'm nothing . . ."

. . . Pushing the memory out of her head, Bella looked back at the metal door that imprisoned Edward.

"Don't talk about the escape," she said agitatedly. 'Why can't you just accept things? Why can't you just be my friend here, in Grange Hall?"

"Because we don't have much time," Edward said, his voice beginning to fade. "We don't have forever, Bella. Not like the rest of them. We need to get out, before it's too late."

Bella stared at the cold, metal door separating her and Edward, and shook her head silently.

_Too late for what?_ She wanted to ask, what does time matter when every moment is stolen away?

But instead, she stood up and briefly pressed her hand against the door, before forcing her frozen legs to carry her silently back up to her stark, grey dormitory.

The next day when Bella woke up, her night-time visit felt rather like a dream, like an unreal version that might even have happened to someone else.

There was nothing like the chill of the morning air on your body and the knowledge that you had five minutes to get to breakfast, fully dressed to put a bit of perspective on things, she thought to herself, as she pulled on her overalls and regulation knee-length socks. Nothing like the threat of a beating to get rid of dangerous thoughts and expose them for the deceptions they were.

She felt guilty now, embarrassed and fearful that someone might have seen her creeping down to solitary in the middle of the night. She couldn't believe how reckless she had been, couldn't believe that she'd actually told Edward that she'd do it again tonight.

Silently, she led the other Pending girls out of the dormitory and own towards central feeding for breakfast, she stopped them, and inspected their appearance quickly, telling one to pull up her socks properly and another to straighten her hair. Then her eyes were drawn to Jessica's overalls, ad she frowned.

Jessica had never really fit in at Grange Hall, had never really been able to adjust to institutional living. And she wasn't good at anything either –everything she touched, whether cooking or cleaning or ending, seemed to go wrong and she would look at it helplessly, as if she couldn't understand how she'd ended up with a lopsided pie or the wrong stitch or a floor that was still covered in grease marks.

Bella had tried to teach her at first, making her do the work over and over again until it was right, but lately she'd begun to cover up for her instead, unable to bear Jessica's haunted expression and ever-present bruises.

Right now, however, Bella wasn't in the mood for Jessica's inadequacies. This was the just the excuse she needed to reaffirm her authority –over the surpluses in her charge, over herself. There was a button hanging off Jessica's overalls, and everyone knew that overalls had to be kept in good repair at all times.

"You've got a loose button," she said sharply. "Go and fix it. You can't go into central feeding looking like that."

"I'm sorry Bella, I didn't notice," Jessica said quietly. The bruises on her face were now a deep purple color and Bella could hardly look at them.

"Can I eat first and sew it on later?"

Bella met her eyes for a brief second, she considered agreeing to Jessica's request, breakfast was the biggest meal of the day where big vats of porridge sat at the top of the hall so that everyone could have at least two helpings. Jessica was thin enough already; a missed meal would make her hollow cheeks positively skeletal.

But then she shook herself. Narrowing her eyes, she looked down at Jessica.

"Do it now," she snapped. "If you miss breakfast, that's your own fault. I will not have you letting down my dormitory."

Jessica stared up at her silently, then turned and walked back up the stairs, leaving Bella feeling a welcome sense of control. Order was good, she told herself firmly as she approached the vats of porridge.

Rules were there to be followed.

But whilst Bella told herself that she was fine, she didn't feel particularly fine. Taking the bowl back to her table, she lifted the food to her mouth, but found herself unable to eat. The porridge felt dry, like sawdust and eventually having almost gagged on the first mouthful, she gave up.

It was tiredness, she decided. That was all.

"Hurry up, now. Remember that you're on clearing duty this morning. I want central feeding clean before training starts."

Bella looked up to see Mrs. Denali hovering over her, and she nodded quickly.

"Yes, House Matron, I remember. We'll start right away," she said. "You can depend on me." She added unnecessarily, and Mrs. Denali raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well I hope I can" she said frowning slightly as she swished past her solid court shoes resonating on the cold, hard floor.

Bella looked up and saw that Jessica was standing nervously in the doorway. The final whistle had just been blown, which meant no more food was to be consumed. And suddenly Bell couldn't bear it.

"Jessica, come in, we're on cleaning duty," she said loudly, watching closely as Jessica nodded obediently, her eyes surreptitiously moving to the front of the hall where the big vats of porridge were being taken into the kitchens.

Bella picked up her bowl, which was full of porridge, and walked over to Jessica.

"Here," she said softly, checking that no one was watching before handing her the bowl.

"Just eat it quickly and don't tell anyone, okay?"

Jessica's face lit up as she took the bowl gratefully.

"Thanks Bella," she said in her small voice. "And I'm sorry about the button."

Bella nodded, and walked away thinking as she did so of Mrs. Denali's take on apologies. _Don't ever say you're sorry to another surplus,_ the House Matron had told her repeatedly when she'd first became a prefect. _'Sorry' implies a contract, an expected level of behavior, and surpluses don't enjoy such a luxury. Surpluses should not ask why, or how –they simply do what they're told, and that's the end of it. _Sometimes she'd pause then, and frown slightly.

_Life is very straightforward for a surplus, _she'd say almost wistfully. _There's nothing to think about at all._

_Hey Guys, so what did you think about this chapter?_

_Leave a review and let me know :D_

_xoxo_

_-GreenEyes555_


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you notice, that all belongs to the wonderful Gemma Malley and Stephenie Meyer . . . Anything you don't notice is mine (: woo!**

Chapter ten

Later that morning Bella found herself in Laundry, which that day involved ironing all the clothes they took in for local houses –the ones that didn't have housekeepers. Grange Hall's income had risen steadily over the years, Mrs. Denali was always proud to point out. They now did laundry regularly for over fifty households and two local hotels and for the high quality of the work was often commented upon and recommended, something Bella always heard Mrs. Denali telling people, particularly people who were from the authorities.

Bella quite liked doing the laundry, because she got to see the soft sheets and beautiful clothes that people in the village wore –soft woolen jumpers, wisp-thin silk blouses and beautiful cotton dresses that she sometimes liked to imagine wafting around in as if life was nothing more than a wonderful holiday.

Not today though. Today, all she wanted to do was scrub –scrub away dirt, scrub away her wickedness, and scrub away all thoughts of Edward and her appointment later that night.

She'd even offered to do undergarments, which was considered the worst job. They were all hard and full of wire –called 'bones', apparently and impossible to clean.

Bella couldn't understand why anyone would want to wear such uncomfortable undergarments, at least she hadn't until she'd worked for Mrs. Weber.

"Longevity doesn't provide a cure for gravity, unfortunately," Mrs. Weber had told her when she's been caught frowning at a particularly painful-looking thing that she discovered was called an Uplifter.

"Until they develop a drug that renews the skin as well as the body, we're going to need boning to keep everything in place and to hold everything up."

Bella had just nodded at the time, even though she didn't really know what Mrs. Weber meant, but a few days later her employer had called her into the bathroom because she needed a towel. When Bella came in and saw Mrs. Weber naked, she would have gasped if it hadn't been for all her training, which taught her never to stare or to react to anything except with a nod and, if appropriate a curtsey.

The truth was Bella had never seen a body like it. Fully dressed, Mrs. Weber was so pretty, with golden skin and white blonde hair and pretty blue eye shadow around her eyes, but her naked body was so . . . . . . . . .droopy. That was the only word Bella could find to describe it.

Her skin sagged disconsolately around her frame, hanging off her flesh as if it were water logged or had simply lost the will to hold itself up any longer.

Bella had kept her eyes lowered, but Mrs. Weber must have seen her looking out of the corner of her eye because she looked at her and smiled sadly.

"I just can't bring myself to go under the knife," she said with a little shrug, as Bella blushed furiously at being caught out. "It's ridiculous I know, when I could have everything perked up in no time. But every so often, things go wrong on the operating table. And now I know I'll be living for ever, it's made me scared to death. Isn't that silly?"

Miss. Humphries took laundry, and checked every sheet, blouse and towel before it was packed away, because Mrs. Denali had said that every single item had to be ironed to perfection before it could be sent back to its owner.

Bella had partnered with Edward in Laundry for the past few weeks, but today Miss. Humphries put her with Jessica, which meant Bella recognized, that she would have to do most of the load herself if it was going to achieve the high quality expected. She wondered how Jessica would cope on the outside, whether she would prove useful enough for employment.

Bella pushed the thought from her head. Jessica was not her responsibility, she reminded herself. Jessica would look after herself.

Silently, they started to iron the large sheet, folding it into a neat, pressed rectangle as they did so. Then they ironed another, and another, then a duvet cover, then three blouses and a whole load of undergarments until the entire pile had been turned into a neat, fragrant stack.

"Well doesn't that look nice and pretty."

Bella looked up to see Tanya standing over Jessica, her eyes focused on the laundry in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes in warning, and Tanya tossed her hair.

"It's okay," she said, smiling silkily. "I'm not going to do anything. But Jessica, I bet your parents would be proud, don't you think? That their dirty, worthless surplus daughter is learning to do her chores?"

Jessica stood up angrily to face Tanya, but even standing, the top of her head barely reached Tanya's nose.

"At least my parents didn't want to give me up," Jessica hissed. "I'm Legal and the catchers stole me away. But your parents didn't want you, did they Tanya? They just gave you away? I bet your parents couldn't even bear to look at you. And nor can I."

Tanya's face went red, and Bella stood up quickly.

"Enough," she said angrily. "Tanya get back to work."

Miss. Humphries was walking towards them and Tanya reluctantly turned, pulling a few strands of Jessica's red hair out of her head as she walked away, forcing tears of pain into Jessica's eyes.

"Why do you do that?" Bella asked, shaking her head. "You have to learn to ignore her, Jessica; otherwise you're always going to be picked on."

Jessica smiled benignly.

"I don't mind being picked on," she said. "And I only told the truth. Tanya's parents brought her here themselves, didn't they? She wasn't wanted by anyone in the whole wide world. Not like us, Bella. Our parents wanted us. That makes us special."

Bella looked at Jessica in bewilderment, wondering how she managed to twist the truth so easily. Mrs. Denali said that parents who gave up their surpluses were honorable; Bella herself had always wished her parents hadn't been so selfish, hiding her away in an attic.

"No surpluses are special," she whispered angrily, looking around to check that no one had heard.

"Jessica, don't blaspheme like that."

But Jessica smiled secretly.

They didn't talk for the rest of the training session and it was only when they were leaving that she turned conspiratorially to Bella.

"Look," she said, pulling out of her pocket. It was pink and silky, and Bella gasped as she recognized it.

It was a pair of knickers, but not the sort of knickers that surpluses wore. They were silk and soft and Bella remembered admiring them as she ironed them. And now they were in Jessica's pocket.

"Put them back,' Bella hissed. "Put them back or I'll tell Miss. Humphries. You'll get beaten, Jessica. Quickly, before she notices . . ."

But Jessica shook her head defiantly.

"I'm Legal, not a surplus. I should have things like this, Bella. And I like them. I don't want to put them back."

Bella shook her head in disbelief.

"Jessica," she said firmly. "Put them back right now."

"What, so you're the only one allowed secrets now."

Bella stared at Jessica uncertainly. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "What are you talking about?"

Jessica smiled. "I woke up last night Bella, and you weren't there. Where were you?"

Bella felt the blood drain from her face. "You must have imagined it," she said. "You must have been dreaming."

Jessica shrugged.

"Maybe you're dreaming now, Bella. Maybe I don't have anything in my pocket."

Bella stared at her, but before she could say anything Miss. Humphries arrived at their counter and carefully inspected their work. Bella opened her mouth to tell her of Jessica's transgression, but she found herself unable to speak. Instead, she just stared at Jessica, beads of sweat beginning to appear on her forehead.

"Good, good. Well done you two. You can go now."

Bella looked at her uncertainly. "We . . . we can go?" she asked hesitantly.

Miss. Humphries frowned. "Yes, Bella, you can go."

Jessica was tugging her sleeve, but still Bella felt rooted to the spot, convinced that if she moved Mother Nature herself would smite her down.

"Come on Bella," Jessica said, smiling thinly. "We're going to be late for supper."

"Yes, I suppose we will." Bella said vaguely, shooting


End file.
